#kind of. sentimental but figured. it’d be nice to say.

[localvoidcat]

happy new year to everybody that made it through this year, and to everybody that’s fighting to make it to the next one. you survived, and that’s all that matters. i hope to see you guys next year as well, stay safe out there

[lykaios2]

cowboy f!Leo propaganda but fanfic >>>>

(cowboy f!Leo x fem reader and yes its placed in the wild west)

The doors of the saloon burst open, and everyone turned their heads to see a mysterious figure standing in the cloud of dust that had formed. He scanned the room in front of him, before making his way inside. He was a tall, muscular man with a relaxed, almost unbothered look on his face. He donned a traditional cowboy hat and a long, flowy beige coat, both with a dark blue trim. As he walked to the counter and began to make conversation with the bartender, everyone resumed their activities.

You sat alone at a table, only wanting to enjoy the background noise of all the happenings at the saloon. It was a familiar, comforting sound, and a nice way to relax after a long day. In fact, you were so absorbed in the bustling atmosphere that you hadn’t noticed the man from earlier take a seat next to you at your table.

“Pardon, m’lady, I hope you don’t mind if I sit here.”

“Oh, not at all.”

“Thank you very much, then.”

Now that you could see him up close, he seemed a different person. He had a smile on his face now, as opposed to the not-so-friendly look he wore earlier. From the way he carried himself, you would think not to mess with him. But he was quite relaxed now, humming along to the tune of the music and enjoying his drink. He didn’t seem to be doing much else, so after a minute of silence, you struck up a conversation again.

“So, what brings you to these parts? Don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Ah, same as ever. Been looking for a new place to settle down. I’ve been on the road for quite some time now, so it’s real good luck to find a place like this to cool my heels.”

“Have you walked all this way?”

“Oh, heavens no. A man would be crazier ‘n horse feathers to make that kind of trip on foot. I got my trusty steed set up in the stables for the time being.”

“Right, ‘course. So then, whaddya think of our town here?” He looked around, as if to recall everything he had done so far. It wasn’t much, though.

“Can’t say I know too much about it, but I’m takin’ a fancy to it so far.”

“Well, why don’t you stay a while? It’d be my pleasure to show you around, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. A kind soul you are, ma’am, and a darn good-lookin’ one too, I must say. I’d be delighted to have you as my guide.”

You blushed a bit at his comment. Not only was he a kind gentleman, but a sweet-talker too. He just smiled innocently, as if he didn’t know what he’d just done. After he finished enjoying the festivities, you led him out into the town. He followed you around as you showed him all the shops, the hotel, the well, and the residential areas.

“What’s your name, by the way? I don’t believe you mentioned it, and I’ve been wondering what to call you by…”

“Oh, my apologies, ma’am. The name’s Leonardo, but you can just call me Leon.”

“Leonardo. Quite a nice name. Sounds very formal.”

“Why, thank you. My dear papa gave it to me.”

“Haha, who else? How is your papa? Still around?”

“He is, thankfully. He’s getting up there in years, though. Doesn’t have much time left in this world. I’d hope to maybe get settled down somewhere before he moves on, so he knows that I’ll be happy.”

He looked a bit sentimental. He went on to tell many stories about his father, and his three brothers. His adventures were incredible. As he talked through the night, you watched the sun go down and the moon come up. After a little while, he stopped talking, and looked up at the night sky, watching the stars. Soon after, he got up from where he was sitting and stretched out his arms.

“Well, it’s gettin’ quite late, I suppose we should be hitting the hay now. Although…” He looked around. “…I don’t believe I’ve got a place to stay.” He turned to you with a sheepish smile on his face. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare room, now would you?”

“Oh, yes, I do have a guest room, if you’d like to stay.”

“Why, darling, you are just the nicest person I’ve ever met. You know…” he said, taking your hand. “I think I might just stay here a while. Those other towns I came across, they were alright…” he brought your hand up and placed a soft kiss on it. “But none of them had you in there.”

[dragonblobz]

The Desert Pt2

I fixed the pov stuff. It will continue as first person pov. I love this fuckn alien ass robot your honor.

The engine is such a quiet pleasant purr. A lovely rumble beneath me. And I can’t even feel upset about the lack of a seat belt. Shit's PLUSH in here.

There’s cold air blasting from the dash. Like the ghost car just KNOWS I’m a cooked turkey. And honestly, it’s appreciated.

I don’t bother to talk. I mean, what would I say anyway?

The landscape flies by me….. us? It’s actually kind of pretty, now that I've got the luxury of sitting in cool air looking at it anyhow.

I reach into my bag and yank out my Fiji bottle. Still half full. Hell yeah. I unscrew the cap and tilt my head back. Might die. Might be trapped in a ghost car. Don’t care. Thirsty.

“You’d better not spill that…..”

It’s such a fast hateful sounding voice. From all around me. I choke a bit and splutter.

“I MEAN it……”

I wipe my sleeve across my face and scowl at the dash of this ghost car.

“It’s WATER, Christine.”

No comment apparently. Just that same quiet oddly pleasant hum under my butt from it’s engine.

I put the cap back on my water, still scowling. Then stuff my hand into my pocket. Pull out my phone to peer at the screen.

Shit. Not just one barely shaky little bar that wouldn’t let my calls connect before. Just that big crossed circle that means my phone is dead in the water.

“That isn’t going to work in me.”

That same voice. Oddly masculine. All around me. I scowl.

“It didn’t work OUT of you, thank you very much. Service in the desert blows I guess.”

The car just purrs under me. That scenery melts around us. The sun is setting. Casting a pinkish glow thru the windshield. It’s kind of… pretty…

I gawp at it. The cactuses… cacti… seeming so small and harmless. The rippling heat on the pavement before us sways and ripples. Seems so….. almost nice. And I’m here in air conditioning.

“Thank… thank you.” It sounds so stupid. But I feel compelled to express the sentiment.

“Why are you thanking me?”

It sounds grumpy and so perplexed. But I’m too thankful for the ride to be hateful.

“Well….. thank you for not killing me. And not leaving me.”

“It’s clearly too hot out here for you. Just don’t make a mess.”

“Alright.” I smile, despite myself. Leaning back a bit in the seat. Just watching that pink sky turn into velvet purple. Starting to feel sleepy. Heat exhaustion? Can’t be sure.

“You’re so cool.” It’s a drowsy slur. I feel comfortable. I’d been walking in an actual desert for hours, after all.

“I would hope so. I figure I’m creating the appropriate temperature for humans.”

It’s so curt. But I’m not mad at it. This car is apparently TRYING to make me comfortable. I laugh quietly.

“No. I meant that you’re… that you’re COOL, ya know?”

Just that engine purring. I can FEEL the perplexity. And it tickles me pink. Just giggling sleepily.

“You’re a ghost car. And you’re giving me a ride to Vegas. And you’re a Lamborghini. It’s just… very cool.”

Still nothing. Just that quiet lovely purr under it’s hood. White noise. My eyelids drift closed.

………………………

This fool of a human…

Sunstreaker continues to drive. He could never explain why he’s even doing what he’s doing.

Transporting this human? Why?

He’d blown past it easily the first time. Intended to do just the same on his way back.

But that little middle finger….. oh he knows what that means. Other bot’s interest in these creatures isn’t completely ignored on his part.

Foolhardy human. Insulting him with its stupid hand sign. Shouldn’t mean anything. But it was still irritating.

He’d only intended to scare it. Running off the road like he’d done. He hadn’t expected the defiance that it’d shown. How very brave it had been. Showing that insult with it’s hands even thinking he might hurt it.

He'd felt a little silly letting it inside. But how could he not? Brave stupid brash bold little thing…

So much like how he’d once been…

And now here he is. A comfortable cruise down this lonely desert highway. Little human making quiet sleeping noises against his window pane. It’s face smooshed on the glass.

It's oddly intimate to have something inside him like this. Comfortable like this. Nobody is this comfortable around him.

“Is that… a human???”

Sideswipe’s consternation breaks these thoughts in Sunstreaker’s mind. The red Lamborghini, his twin, purring quietly behind him. Pulling around him to match his pace in the suicide lane.

He accelerates. Pulling ahead. A hateful response.

“I’m just taking it where it needs to go.”

The red car relents, pulling back to fall behind him in the same lane, as if he just knows that Sunstreaker would prefer him where it’s safer.

“Still… this is GREAT right? You’re helping it!”

Sunstreaker can feel every ounce of the true sentiment here. He’s being mocked. Playfully, but still mocked.

“I’ll drop it off in Vegas, like it wants. And then we’re gone.”

“Yeah! Alright! Sure!”

Sideswipe’s cheerfulness makes his systems grind. But he doesn’t respond.

They drive like this. An hour. Two. The human is snoring an awful noise. Drooling on his window pane. Gross.

Lights on the horizon. They’re close to their destination. He can feel the human stirring inside him.

But the peace is shattered. Too soon. All gone.

His sensors pick up the jet before it fully arrives. One of the elite trine.

His tires squeal as he pulls to a stop. Door pulling open in an elegant hiss over his body.

“Out. Get out. Now.”

…………………….

My face hurts as I wake. Pressed fully on the window pane of a car. I haven’t fallen asleep like this in a car since I was a kid.

Vegas. It’s absolutely beautiful. Bright lights illuminating the dash of…. A Lamborghini????

I’m in….. a……

My memories pull in sluggishly. Catching up with my sleepy brain. And with them comes a child’s joy.

I honestly don’t know what aspect of this is the most COOL. The fact that I’m in a ghost car. The fact that the ghost car is a fucking Lamborghini. Or the fact that this ghost car Lamborghini is taking me to my destination safely. Voluntarily.

I notice headlights in that fancy rear view mirror. There’s another car behind us.

I blink slowly. Eyes still feeling dry. Where’s that Fiji…..

My face jolts forward and smacks against the dash as this ghost car squeals to a stop. I feel blood erupting from my nose and spilling down my lips and chin. I hope my nose isn’t broken. No fucking seat belt. And we’re shrieking to a very sudden halt. Right in the middle of the fabled Las Vegas strip I’d been so excited about pulling into on my stupid crappy Yamaha.

“Out. Get out. Now.”

“What….”

I’m still sleepy and in pain and so confused. Face smearing blood in the dash of this ghost car as I try to push myself up. What is even happening?

“OUT NOW!”

It’s urgent. I feel the seat shift beneath me. The seat itself moving beneath me. Before I’m on the hot pavement with the blaring bright lights of Vegas glaring down on me.

Coughing and spluttering blood. Looking up to see what the loud noise is. Jet screaming. A plane morphing into a monster above me.

“Oh no…. No…. Oh god… God help me…”

[wawamouse]

Oz Rewatch 3: S4E14: Orpheus Descending

Storylines

Lockdown ends with Redding and Morales agreeing to a truce, but tensions remain; Supreme Allah makes a deal with the Latinos to get Hill to kill Redding, who has disavowed Hill

Redding and (the Colonel guy) bond over ’Nam.

Hughes continues to antagonise the Unit J peeps; Basil finally meets with his wife; Hughes shanks Basil and is placed in Solitary

Sister Pete agrees to help Beecher get in contact with Keller; Beecher meets with his lawyer; Keller tells Beecher to not call

Schillinger meets with Carrie and Jewel; a former pimp inmate (named Curtis Bennett) reveals to Schillinger that Hank pimped Carrie out a couple of times and Cloutier urges Schillinger to be patient while the situation is figured out

Said tells Glynn that Robson hired Tidd to kill him and then sent Jenkins to kill Tidd; Said asks Cloutier to convince Jenkins to confess, but the Aryans threaten Jenkins and force him to commit suicide; Cloutier’s meddling causes Schillinger to pull away

McManus challenge Vahue to 2v2 and gets Glynn’s approval for one exhibition match; McManus is partnered with Dave Bass and Vahue is partnered with Busmalis; Vahue and Busmalis win after Busmalis makes a half court shot

Deyell meets with the donor recipient for his corneas; Deyell leaves to go to the hospital to meet his heart recipient and dies in his escape attempt

Padraig Connolly (Padraic Connelly in the subs?) arrives at Em City; Kirk and Burns attack him

Suzanne visits Ryan again; Suzanne reveals that Cyril is his half-brother

Jia Kenmin gets knocked into a coma by Cyril and McManus once again pushed to have Cyril moved to Connelly Institute

Arif tells Said about seeing O’Reily kill Patrick Keenan; O’Reily asks Gloria to help him and Cyril escape

Sister: What would you be doing, sitting on your bunk or staring out your window? Me: During a lockdown? Sister: Yeah, look at all them staring out the window. I wouldn’t be standing up for this crap. Me: (inhales whiteclaw)

Sister: Does he have another pair of legs? Me: His arms. Sister: But that’s incorrect. That’s like saying your dog has a hand. Me: So what do you think? He’s like a secret centaur or something? Sister: Could be.

Me: Wow, they cuff their legs, too? Sister: Yeah… Very sexual. Me: But they didn’t cuff Miguel’s legs. Sister: Yeah, well that wasn’t sexual. And he’s already sexual. Plus this other guy apparently has all kinds of shanks. Shanking everyone. He probably has a shank in his foot. You don’t know.

Sister: Well at least with this, she gets one point… (laughing) But she has negative one thousand points right now, so it doesn’t matter.

Sister: This place is pretty nice… They got their own machine. They even have their own library. Me: yeah, but they’re not allowed to go anywhere. They even have their food brought to them. Sister: Oh yeah, you’d have to worry about the spit in the food. Me: But it’d suck if you hated the people you were stuck with. Sister: That’s okay, I’ll take you with me :) Me: To prison?!

Sister: I keep thinking that he should be evil.

Sister: Why… why is this a plot line? Me: This won’t be the last time you have to ask this.

Sister: Do the show creators think they’re playing some medieval games? Always putting on jousting matches? What’s next, hockey? They gonna put on a swimming match next? (As McManus) It’s be fine! We’ll just do it in the showers.

Sister: Listen to the balding voice of reason. So embarrassing. It’s like he’s going through a mid-life crisis because he just got stabbed again.

Sister (a big Greek mythology nerd): That is NOT how it went… Of COURSE they were sentimental… They let him go down to Hades BECAUSE they felt so bad about how sad he was and how his songs kept making everyone else so sad. And then the women all killed him because he was still moping afterward and turned away from them. Like Ovid said Bacchus turned the women who killed him into trees or whatever because he was so mad they killed his bard… Everyone was sad for him. This is fake news. (after the episode) Sister, returning to my room with a giant Greek mythology book: See, the D’Aulaires version says that the muses picked up his body off the isle of Lesbos and held a proper funeral for him because they were so sad. I think Ovid thought that Orpheus should’ve commit suicide to be with Eurydice, but that’s because he always had to tell life lessons in his versions and his whole thing was “you can’t cheat the gods”. (later, while I’m screencapping) Sister: Also, what was even the theme of this episode? I want to figure out a better story they should have used. Me (reading Hill’s opening statement): “Back in the old Greek times there lived a man named Orpheus. Loved his wife, took it easy on the ouzo, played a mean guitar. Upstanding guy. So what did the almighty gods do? They fucked with him. Made his life Hades. Why? 'Cause that's what those in power do to those of us with none.” …So I guess they were trying to do a thing about how those with power fuck the little guy over. I guess they should’ve done the Book of Job or whatever. Orpheus is like the opposite of that… They gave him every chance. Sister: Yeah, they loved that guy. They were so sad. They could done that, uh… That guy they sent out onto the water forever… Odysseus. Or Sisyphus. Me: I’m surprised they DIDN’T use Sisyphus. Sister: Or they could have done Hercules, he got pretty fucked over by everyone. Me: “So, Orpheus wife's strolling along, gets bitten by a snake and dies. Orpheus freaks out and heads down into the Underworld to demand that his lady be returned and some Goddess says: "Okay, on one condition. If you look at her before you get back to Earth, she'll disappear." With, like, ten feet left to go, motherfucker turns around and wifey's sent right back to Hell. Orpheus should've known better; you don't fuck with the Gods.” Sister: Sisyphus would’ve worked better. Me: Yeah, but I think they wanted to use Orpheus because of the love angle. Because it was about loving his family. He lost his wife. Sister: …They weren’t married. That’s like the thing. Some tales said the reason he was so sad was BECAUSE there were going to get married that same day. Me: “Myths are supposed to teach us something, but what's the life lesson in this sad tale of Orpheus? No good deed goes unpunished? Fuck that, ain't no such thing as a good deed. Love conquers all? Never has, never will. Maybe the moral of the story is that those in power are just as fucked up as those who ain't and the worst thing a body can do is give up his or her own power to some buttheads on Mount Olympus 'cause if they're so fuckin' powerful, how'd they let us get away with all this shit in the first place. Answer me that.” …I think maybe there was a misunderstanding about the myth of Orpheus. Like they got some points right, but it's like a wikipedia understanding. Sister: What good deed? Oh, they could’ve done Asteria and Leto, too. Honestly, they could’ve picked any women out of Greek mythology and it would’ve fit better…. Io, got turned into a frickin’ cow just to hide and she was like “can you turn me back?” and they were like “no”. And then Hera kept bothering her, too. Sent a gadfly down just to bother her and chase her around. Just look up “lovers of Zeus” and you’d have a better “fucked over by the gods” story. Typical. They had to frame it around a man. (continues giving Stories It Could've Been & Rambles about Greek gods and myths for another like 15 minutes)

Me: Honestly…. Why would they think that? He’s never shown any real sign in the show of being insane or having no tether to reality...

Stray Thoughts

McManus states he was in the hospital 10 days

Em City controls:

Sister Pete indicates that it is February

The TV channel they always watch is WYAT according to the anchor

Hospital sign:

[mydictionary-yume]

A3! Event Story | A Year of Romance with You - Chapter 5

(Contains very minor spoilers for A3! Act 12)

Izumi: (Huh…? What’s Sakuya doing here this early?)

Izumi: (Wait, Lu, too?!)

Sakuya: Mmn…

Sakuya: Director?!

Izumi: Sakuya, what are you doing out here? And more importantly…

Sakuya: I’m really sorry, director! I know we shouldn’t have guests over without permission, but she was standing out there in the middle of the night, so I figured it’d be best if she just stayed, and-

Izumi: Relax, Sakuya. I’m not mad or anything, you did the right thing. 

Sakuya: But still…

Izumi: It’s alright, really. 

Lucille: Mm… huh?

Sakuya: Oh! Good morning, Lu!

Izumi: Morning, Lu. 

Lucille: Ack-! I’m so sorry director, I didn’t plan on staying, it was my idea, I’m really, really, sorry, and-

Izumi: Woah, woah, you’re fine! You two really were made for each other, huh…

Lucille & Sakuya: Ahaha…

Lucille: Wait, what time is it?! 

Izumi: Hm? It’s just past six. You two are up pretty early.

Lucille: Oh thank God, we’ve got time.

Izumi: Oh? What did you two have planned for today?

Lucille: Just a trip.

Izumi: A trip, huh? Sounds fun! Where to?

Lucille: Well, I guess it’d be fine to say now that it’s the day of…

Lucille: We’re going to Hokkaido for a couple of days!

Izumi: You’re WHAT?!

Lucille: Thanks again for the ride, Itaru!

Itaru: Hey, don’t sweat it. I’m the one who’s probably doing the least here. Except for maybe Masumi, but all he’s doing is moping about how he wants to do this kind of thing with the director sometime. 

Sakuya: That’s fair! Still, you all didn’t need to go this far, I could probably live without going more than once a year…

Itaru: Yeah, but it’s just good manners to introduce your girlfriend to your parents, right?

Sakuya: You have a point. 

Sakuya: (As nice as the sentiment is, I don’t know if this is the best way to go about it…)

Sakuya: (But they went out of their way to help us go on this trip, so I’d better make the most of it, right?)

Lucille: I think I’ve got all my bags situated. What about yours, Saku?

Sakuya: Hm? Oh, yeah, I do. 

Itaru: A’ight, let’s head out. 

Sakuya: I always forget how short that flight is!

Lucille: Seriously! I’ll definitely have to give props to Chikage for managing to even get a flight for us. 

Sakuya: That’s a good idea! 

Sakuya: So, where to from here?

Lucille: Well, Chikage managed to get us a few day passes for the trains around here, so I figured we’d settle in at the hotel for a bit. 

Sakuya: Sounds good! 

<Previous  Next>

Event story masterlist

Divider credit

[the-mountain-flower]

"It hasn’t really come up yet, but Kendal is ace (noteworthy to him because Vash wasn’t), Alinua is pan but hasn’t really explored it," -Red (Source)

(Takes place in between Chapter 11: Interstitial, and Chapter 12: Lawbringer)

Kendal is coming to terms with who he is as a person.

“Hey, Alinua?” Kendal asked.

“Yeah?” Alinua turned around from where she was growing a small flower. Kendal remembered her saying that’s how she meditates, and felt bad for interrupting that. Still, it felt rude to backtrack now, so he continued.

“Do you think it’d be weird if my sexual orientation were different than Vash?”

“I don’t think so, you are different people. Why?”

“Well, Vash isn’t asexual, but I think I am? I mean, I know I’ve only had less than two sefs to know, but it kind of feels right. Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah, it does.” Alinua looked back at the flower in her hand, and the stem grew longer. “I mean, I ran away from home before it mattered to me, and I hadn’t seen people for a long time before leaving that tree. I’ve got about the same amount of time to really explore how I felt about other people. When it comes to knowing yourself, I don’t really think there’s a ‘normal’ time frame you have to adhere to.”

“That makes sense,” Kendal admitted. “The people of Vash were all different in how they figured themselves out. I guess I just didn’t realize that applied to me too.”

Alinua turned back and smiled at him. “Well hey, just consider it another step in figuring out being a person, like I said earlier.”

Following that, Kendal found himself staring at his hands while deep in thought. It was nice to figure out who he was, even if that was different from the person in most of his memories. He’d only recently come to terms with the fact that he could actually be different from Vash, in more than just technicality. He’d previously been thinking of him as who he used to be, and that just wasn’t right. Earlier, Erin had referred to Vash as Kendal’s parent, and while it was definitely more complicated than that, it felt more right. Vash was who Kendal came from, but that didn’t define who he had to be, right?

“Welcome to being a person.” Alinua’s sentiment from a few days ago echoed in his head. Kendal smiled. It felt good to start knowing who he was.

[cursivebloodlines]

Dougie smiled gently as he listened to Felicity talk about her paintings. It was nice, actually—her enthusiasm shone through as she described her work.. He could almost picture it in his mind: picture an old pubs, faces of some regulars, and endless scenes that seemed to tell stories all on their own. There was something very comforting about that, about capturing moments of life that others might walk past without a second thought. “That sounds incredible,” he said softly, his hands pausing for a moment as he looked up at her. “You’re painting life as it happens; real people, real places… it’s like you’re freezing those moments in time. I don’t think you should apologize at all for talking about it. I’d be nervous too if someone was operating on my dog, but honestly, I think it’s lovely hearing you talk about what you’re passionate about.” One of his favourite things about people was listening to them talk about their greatest loves, their hobbies, the things that make life worth living. He adores how animated they become, hearing the warmth and love in their words. It was everything.

As he continued to work, Dougie appreciated the way she tried to turn the focus back onto him. It was kind of her to say that his work was an art form too, though he didn’t entirely agree. Art was beautiful, crafted with love and care. Surgery and veterinary work, well… it was messy, stressful, and didn’t always end in a beautiful outcome. But the sentiment was nice. “I guess you’re right in some ways,” he mused with a small chuckle, a light flush rising to his cheeks. “There’s definitely a rhythm to it, a certain balance you have to keep. But you’re giving me too much credit. What you do—putting yourself out there with your art for the world to see—that’s the real bravery.”

He turned back to Rosie as she lay on the table, peaceful and relaxed despite the earlier ordeal. The broken leg was certainly an issue, but it could be fixed with a proper cast and care. Dougie was just glad she didn’t seem to be in too much pain. “She’s doing well,” he reassured Felicity as he gently stroked the dog’s fur. “She’s been an absolute trooper. We’ll need to get her leg in a cast, but nothing’s too serious. It’s just going to take some time for her to heal up fully. But I’m fairly optimistic that with some regular check ups and plenty of rest, she’s going to be just finel.” 

Dougie couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement at the thought of going to Felicity’s show. It sounded like she was so talented. Of course she was, if she didn’t have any talent then there wouldn’t be a show with her work! The fact that she wanted him there, even if they had just met, and he was merely the vet who treated her dog made him feel… well, special. “I’d love to go. It’d be an honour, truly. And I promise, no more talk of payments. I’ll accept the free ticket and count myself lucky,” he added with a grin. Though, he told himself he would find a way to make them even, so he could pay in other ways. Like what, he wasn’t sure, but he could figure that out.  The idea of seeing Felicity’s work in person, learning more about her… it stirred something inside him that he hadn’t felt in a while. What it was, he wasn’t sure yet, but maybe, just maybe, Dougie could figure it out as they went along.

She nodded her head slowly as he described how his friends would disagree about the impact on Dougies life. It was curious, something told her that their habit to ramble was not the only thing they shared in common. There was a past there that Dougie's brightness seemed to have survived through.

"Well, I like painting everything, nature, cities, people, but mostly I love painting scenes, like one that sold recently was of this old man pub that's near my house, and all it's usual guests, or I did some of the park in town, and the people their with their dogs...so I am not really sure what you would call it...but I love painting's that kind of have a story to them...I'm sorry I don't usual talk this much..." she apologised, looking over to her dog on the table. "I think the adrenaline of everything that has happened has just brought it all on...when I get nervous I just...talk" she said sheepishly.

She admired how he spoke about how art was all around them, and she smiled. "Yeah, yeah it really is...but I mean what you do is an art in itself, not everyone can perform such operations and examinations...there's a skill and a performace to that as well" she said, watching him as he tended to her beloved pet. She couldn't help but smile when he said he would only need the one ticket, and to hide that delight she moved her cup to her lips again and took another sip of her tea. Catch yourself on, Felicity thought to herself, but he agreed, he agreed to come to her show, this guy who she'd only just met wanted to come to see her-her work. "No need to pay, I'll cover that...I'm allowed bring up to two guests free...and, well I don't really know many people who would be interested in going...so if you'd like to that would be great" she felt kind of awkward talking about it. Should she have invited him? Maybe that was coming on too strong...but still...she liked the idea of seeing him.

"How's...how's she doing?" she asked, gesturing to Rosie, who had behaved herself for the time she was on the table. Dougies presence also seemed to relax her.

[yesimwriting]

Corridor Moments

A/n this is a request from @mariannagris for a fic with the Darkling x Sun Summoner! reader where they're having a cute moment and then Zoya walks in and sees that they're together and gets jealous.

I'm working on a longer fic that should be up this weekend!! I'm working through a bunch of requests/updates rn I promise lol

--

He's no longer guiding me, but he hasn't moved his hands away--one on my waist, one on my shoulder.

"Aleksander," I try to keep my tone casual, only hinting at a warning.

There's no way he misses it, but he still allows the hand on my shoulder to ghost across my collar before setting his palm on my cheek. "Yes, my sun?"

Before I can roll my eyes, he brushes his thumb across my cheek softly. His touch has started to become more casual, but I'm not sure the comfort it brings me will ever lose its novelty. I tilt my head slightly, leaning into his touch.

"We're not alone." The reminder is more for me than him. All of his actions are intentional, he knows the risks of his sudden bout of affection. "We may be in an empty hallway now, but we're not alone."

Aleksander leans forward slightly, forcing me to press my back into the wall to avoid melting into him. I don't miss his half-smile, a confident smirk breaking across his features. He knows what he's doing. "And what would we need to be alone for?"

The slightest hint of annoyance bubbles in my chest. For someone so determined, he enjoys playing coy more than he should. My lips part, prepared to call him out for his teasing, but Aleksander senses my hesitance like always. He leans forward again, this time pulling my chin up slightly so that our lips could brush together if I just inclined my head slightly.

The closer we get, the more I feel our distance. His eyes flicker downwards, focusing on the slight part of my lips. Aleksander angles his head downwards, allowing our lips to meet fully. Now that the barrier's been broken, I have no choice but to reciprocate with full force, my hands leaving his chest and finding their way into his hair. Aleksander's hands grab the collar of my kefta. He pulls me towards him sharply, as desperate as I am to eliminate space.

And then he pulls me away. I'm left pouting on instinct, lips slightly swollen and breathing a little uneven. "Easy," he chides, "We can't afford to get distracted."

I wrinkle my nose at him. He started this, pulling me out of the meeting under the ruse of important, private conversation. "And who's the one doing the distracting?"

Aleksander smiles fully. A real grin, the kind of grin that rivals any amount of sun I could ever produce. "You," he breathes, leaning in again and brushing his lips against my cheek, "Considering you won't leave my thoughts."

I let myself grin back, his unexpected softness an arrow that pierces through whatever's left of my composure. "You're awfully sentimental today."

He straightens slightly, expression still light. "Is that a bad thing?"

Squeezing the hand that he's placed on my waist, I beam at him. "Not bad at all--just different."

He's still looking at me with a fierceness that sometimes frightens me due to its wholeness, but something ancient and dark is settled behind his eyes. Something haunting that he won't let me help him with. I haven’t known him that long, but I’ve figured out that his affection is often a secret plea, a silent attempt to rid himself of darkness. What's the point of being able to summon the sun if you cannot banish the darkness that haunts those you care about? I raise his hand to my mouth, kissing each of his knuckles deliberately. He exhales at the contact, some sort of tension coiling in him at the chaste contact. 

I like us better when we’re alone. When he lets things like this slip from him as he tries to let my light in him. I could stay in this corridor forever with him. I could hold him by his hand to make sure he can’t slip away from me. 

Reality does not allow me to coddle my dreams. If I lose focus, he’ll be able to convince me to do anything--to forget my own name even. I drop my gaze to the hand I’m still holding, running my thumb along his knuckles. “We can’t--we can’t stay.” Not the truest sentiment--he can do whatever he wants. “I can’t stay.” The correction leaves me bitter. “Not for long.” The addition only softens the harsh edge of reality slightly. “People are already starting to think you’re extending favoritism towards me.” 

Aleksander lifts the hand I’m holding, taking my hand with him. He turns my hand over before placing a kiss on my palm. The contact is warm and fleeting and I’m powerless against the sentiment it stirs. “And this isn’t favoritism?” 

I roll my eyes, his warm breath is still against my skin. “That depends--am I your favorite?” 

His hold on my hand tightens slightly. “You already know the answer.” I let the corner of my mouth twitch upwards. Aleksander has already offered me more than I expected today, but it’d still be nice to hear him say it. “You, my darling, my sun, will always be my favorite.” 

I beam a little easier, warmth expanding in my chest. Still, the feeling isn’t enough to burn through all of my reluctance. His affection stems from the fact that he believes me to be his salvation. That’s the only thing that makes sense to me. How else could i have won his affections? 

“It’s easy to favor a Sun Summoner,” the response is soft, a bit of forced teasing edging my words. 

His eyebrows draw together as his hold on my hand tightens, turning from a gentle squeeze to a desperate grab. “Sun Summoner or not, no one else has ever held my favor the way you do.” Aleksander leans towards me again, the comforting heat of his breath on my cheek. “And no one ever will.” 

I’m reduced to nothing more than happy neediness, letting him cup my face and pulling me towards him. His lips meet mine with a desperate understanding that’s both bruising and coddling. Aleksander’s teeth graze my bottom lip, testing waters that are unfamiliar between us. I reciprocate, pushing even closer to him. He pushes us backwards, pressing me against the wall as he moves his attention away from my lips and down my jaw, leaving a trail of hot skin wherever his lips brush. 

“Aleksander,” I breathe, placing a hand on his chest, “Meeting--we need to--” 

He pulls away just enough to let me feel his grin, “That can wait.” 

“They’ll think things,” Despite my warning, Aleksander doesn’t pull away, his fingertips brushing against my collar. “They’re waiting,” he sighs against my hair, still careless, “Alina--she’s waiting...” He continues to touch me like I’m an illusion of the light. “And--” He smiles at my waning resolve, attempting to move forward to silence the last of my protests with a kiss. 

I turn my head, suppressing a reluctant laugh at his carelessness. Aleksander is not discouraged, pressing a kiss against my cheek. Shifting my gaze while placing my hand on his chest to make it easier to push him off fo me, I freeze. He must feel my new stiffness, because Aleksander pauses against me.  

Zoya. She’s standing at the entrance of the corridor, watching us--watching me--with such a sharp look of ill-defined displeasure I’m surprised I’m not physically withered by it. Awkwardness and something akin to guilt leave me blind as I try to create space between me and the unbudging General. Does he not see her? 

“Yes?” His voice leaves goosebumps against my skin--not an ounce of shame, but not a drop of that easy-going softness either. He’s General Kirigan again--sharp and incapable of shame or regret. He’s in complete control, all the power in the world is at the fingertips that are still on my skin. 

Zoya’s expression does not waver, eyes still locked on me. “Those in the meeting were beginning to worry, but I see that you’re occupied.” I was wrong. She’s not staring at me, she’s staring through me--like I’m nothing more than a thin curtain on a cloudless day during high noon. “I’ll inform the others.” 

“You’ll inform them of nothing I don’t approve of.” He’s fierce, the threat of venom apparent in each syllable. “And it’d do you well to meet the Sun Summoner’s gaze with a little more respect.” 

I’m quick to grab his forearm, desperate to articulate how much I’d rather him not pick this fight--not when most can barely stand me, not when the more I think of Zoya’s look I realize any bitterness towards me is something else. Not hatred, no--resentment. The kind of resentment that’s only ever a byproduct of something else. If I was bolder, I’d assume it a look of jealousy--maybe not over the man, but the attention and praise received for being nothing more than new and shiny. Her eyebrows knit together as Aleksander’s hold on me adjusts slightly. Okay, maybe the fact that I’m with Aleksander has something to do with it--but it has to be more than that. Her dislike of me, her constant myriad of comments and looks all points to a jealousy much more bitter than that of someone love sick. 

If something in her has been broken over time here, time around Kirigan and his pension for manipulating that I am not blind to and my presence and joy is a reminder of that, than I can bear her hatred. “She was looking at me normally.” Before he can challenge me, I move his hands off of me gently and slip away from between him and the wall. 

I guess that’s what it takes for him to understand that I mean it, Aleksander straightens and takes a step forward. His eyes linger on me as he walks forward. I stay a few steps behind him, a pathetic attempt to cling to any kind of properness I can manage. 

“If I were you, I’d at least comb your hair with your fingers before entering that room again unless you’d like to announce yourself as a form of entertainment.” 

Being a decent person is nauseating sometimes. “And take the fun out of it for you?” 

I don’t wait for her reply, moving down the hall to catch up with Aleksander. Still, when I’m no longer next to Zoya I brush my fingers through my hair in hopes of correcting any damage she’s created. Maybe I should be more worried. Maybe I should care about the opinions of others more. But every reason to stay away from Aleksander entirely feels so small. I’m not naive enough to fall blindly, but the thing about being a Sun Summoner is that you can bring light with you, no matter how dark the path you chose is. 

I watch Aleksander as he places a hand on the door to the room. He offers me one last, genuine smile. His path isn’t as dark as he wants it to seem, and even if it is, I don’t care. 

[persephones-wren]

Hello! may i request a c!revivebur who’s walking around the server and sees his (now ex) partner for the first time since he died and he apologizes to them for how he treated them in pogtopia and they just like walk around and catch up please? love your writing!! don’t worry if this gets rejected or you don’t feel inspired i know how it feels!

Hope (c!Revivedbur x Reader)

apologies if it's a bit out of character, it's been a while since I've written anything for the DSMP :) but thank you for my first request from there! I hope you liked how it turned out!

Warnings: none? all lore is pretty outdated I think

Genre: fluff-ish

Word Count: 1220

Dawn breaks.

He stands there, watching the sunrise. His trench-coat feels heavy. The gloves on his hands feel scratchy, and he knows he keeps tightening them; a nervous habit. He’s going to betray them all. Whether they win or lose the final war, L’Manberg is going to go up in flames.

He’s not going to be there to see it all.

“You alright, Will?”

You stand beside him, on the cliff, and he knows that Tommy and Tubbo are probably somewhere behind him, watching over you both. He didn’t have his sanity anymore, but he was still in control enough to think of them and Niki, fighting for a false cause, watching over him, worried.

“Of course, love. Why wouldn’t I be?”

His voice is an odd, jubilant tone. It’s one he’s had for a while, the one he had when Tommy and Techno spared and he pushed them both, the one he had when referring to Dream.

You don’t know whether it’s happiness or madness.

“Wilbur Soot.”

“Y/N, I’m alright,” he sighs. He puts his arm around you. “We’re going to win L’Manberg back,” Lie. “and we’ll be able to have everything we once did.” Lie. “I’ll run the country again as it’s rightful leader,” Lie. “and it’ll be the place to build our future.” Lie.

“I don’t care about L’Manberg as much as I care about you,” you state. “Wilbur Soot, I love you. No matter what happens today,” you whisper, “That won’t change.”

How foolish you had been.

Philza had murdered him, a diamond sword straight through his chest, and the only thing that reassured you that it was what he wanted was the smile on his face. Your word never faltered, though. No matter what happens, you’d still love him.

You’re considering changing that sentiment as you go to visit the same cliff, and see someone already there. Occasionally, it’d be Niki there, or Tommy and Tubbo, sometimes even Ranboo. You’d talk to them, reminisce, or tell them bits of history. It always hurts your heart, but that’s what kept the dead alive, their stories.

It’s not any of them this time, though.

You scan the figure ahead of you. Tall, wearing a jacket, gauze and blood wrapped around his right arm. The height tells you it’s Ghostbur, but the dressing and the vibrant color in his hair tells you it’s his living counterpart.

It’s Wilbur. It’s Wilbur Soot, not Ghostbur.

You pinch at your wrist, but the slight sting tells you that it’s no dream.

Wilbur Soot stands a couple meters in front of you, alive. You want to run, away or toward him, you can’t be sure, but you’re rooted in place. He’s alive. The realization fills your heart with love, with fear- which era of Wilbur has he returned as? Is he the musician who made you swoon? Is he the revolutionary, the gentle and kind leader? Is he the man who spiraled into insanity, who blew up L’Manburg?

“Beautiful sunset, isn’t it?”

He knows there’s someone there. Who, he isn’t sure, but whoever it was, whether it was someone new or someone he had to make amends to- starting a conversation was the best way to find a window to apologize. Personal gains aside, there were a lot of people who deserved apologies from him.

Especially his love.

“It’s nice,” you say, cautious. “I haven’t really taken the time to look at another one since Doomsday.”

He turns toward you, shock in his expression and a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. Your hand rests on the hilt of your sword, and he frowns at that.

Did you think- didn’t you still have two lives? He’s not the man he was when he was last alive.

“Love-”

“Please don’t call me that,” you whisper.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not the person who blew up L’Manberg.” He takes note of the way your expression softens slightly, but your hand doesn’t move. “Darling, I’m unarmed. Why are you- how many lives are you on?”

“One.”

“One? I thought- What happened?”

“The L’Manberg explosion took my second one.”

He notices the way you say L’Manberg and not Doomsday. It was his doing.

He decides that he’s never going to forgive himself for it. Even if you do, he’s going to spend the rest of his life making it up to you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, and strides towards you, throwing his arms around you. “I’m so sorry.”

There’s a small silence, before you speak. “I’m getting over it,” you mutter into his shoulder. “All I have to do is avoid conflict. It can’t be the hardest thing in the world.”

“It’s difficult here.” His concern makes you feel warm. Maybe death has changed him. You hope death has changed him.

“I know,” you respond quietly. Avoiding problems never was the strong suit of anyone on the SMP.

“I’ll find a way to beat death for you.”

You laugh a little, and reach your hand up to ruffle his hair. “Of course you’d find a way. You’re always pushing for change.”

“Especially if it helps the people I love.”

You don’t get a moment to reflect on his words before he’s reaching for your hand, interlocking it with his. You both walk, side by side, throughout the SMP.

“A lot has changed,” he remarks.

“Yeah. A lot has.”

Care to tell me what’s been happening around here?”

“Do you have any memories from Ghostbur?”

“Oh, him,” Wilbur frowns at that. His ghost had been way too positive, quite odd, to be honest. Perhaps he felt the tiniest bit guilty that Ghostbur was stuck in the personal hell that was Jubilee Line, but if it meant he got to live, he would make the same decision again, to board the train Dream had sent out for him.

You’re still staring at him, and he gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, zoned out there. I don’t exactly have many memories, but they’re coming back to me, little by little.”

“We rebuilt L’Manberg, before Tommy was exiled. You left with him, as Ghostbur. I don’t exactly know what happened there, but-” you sigh. “It must have been hell. Tommy never really recovered, I don’t think. Tubbo forbade any of us to visit, he said it was too dangerous to confront Dream head on.”

“I remember that,” Wilbur says quietly. “If I were to see Dream again, I’d strike him down where he stood.”

“He’s in prison now, thankfully. I’d say he’s getting what he deserves.”

He decides not to mention how Dream was the one who brought him to life.

You both finally stop at the ruins of L’Manberg, staring down into the glass-covered crater. It’s a swirl of memories, a tangle of old times, a harsh reminder of the past.

“We should look towards the future,” Wilbur speaks. His eyes are focused on the bright of the moon, and the glimmer of the stars above both of you. “A future together,” he adds. He kisses the top of your head and puts his hand around your waist, cautious, but you make no move to stop him. Even if he’s not the same, he’s close to the man you once knew.

You find the constellation he’s looking at, and smile slightly.

Canis Major.

A future together.

Hope.

[shinidamachu]

I need some Inuyasha as a great father (more like DILF, amirite?) headcanons, can you help me out?

I'm here to serve!

• It isn’t until they’re happily married for at least one or two years that the possibility of children are brought up.

• At first, they took that time to relearn each other, enjoy their company and make the honeymoon phase last a little long. They did spend three years apart, after all. There’s so much time to make up for, so many catching up to do before they’d even think to throw a kid into the mix. Plus, being a modern woman, Kagome would know how to avoid pregnancy the best her new circumstances allowed and how important that time alone is for a newly-married couple.

• They never actually had the child talk because Kagome just assumed that’s where their relationship would naturally lead to, given her motherly tendencies and Inuyasha’s history of ultimately giving her everything she wants. For his part, Inuyasha knew she wanted to be a mother someday and he'd be lying if he said he never indulged the fantasy of fathering her children. However, he has serious trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that, in reality, Kagome would still be up for it if he were to be the father. He could never dare to ask of her more than she has already given him. Be that as it may, it was not a big deal because it was not a dealbreaker. Nothing was.

• But with time, Kagome would have noticed how good Inuyasha is with Hisui and the Mirsan twins. How his relationship with Shippo had developed from a sibling banter to a makeshift paternal relationship. How people like Shiori and Bunza would look up to him like he was some kind of movie hero. How every kid in the village seemed to adore him despite his grumpy demeanor.

• And Inuyasha would have noticed the way Kagome would look at him whenever he so much as interacted with a child, the way her smell would spike significantly.

• She, of course, was the one to make the first move, jumping him one night, after they had spend the whole day stuck with babysitting the Mirsan children and popping the question.

• Inuyasha was relutant. There was a part of him that was adamant on making her happy and even believed having babies would make him happy too. On the other hand, he was terrified. Terrified of how her body would react to childbirth, of if her spiritual powers would accept his demonic energy. But mostly, about what would happen once the baby was born. The last thing he wanted was for Kagome to go through everything his mother had to go through. Or for another kid to face the same prejudice he did. Besides, he grew up with no father figure whose steps he could follow. He didn’t know how to be a father.

• Kagome assures him that they won’t have a baby until they’re both ready and on the same page, that they have time and that Inuyasha will be a great father.

• Inuyasha believes her.

• Then it is him felling some type of way whenever he sees Kagome around kids. And something deep inside desperately wishes to find out what would their children look like, what would it be like to hold and take care of someone born from their love.

• Finally, he caves.

• Inuyasha wants a big family, considering how lonely his childhood was. Kagome finds it pivotal for their first-born to have a sibling, since she had Sota and their relationship was one of the most important things in her life. That’s why they’d have two children minimum, preferably a boy and a girl. However, giving how dangerous and uncomfortable childbirth can be, especially without the perks the modern era provides, I don’t think they’d have more than three.

• Naturally, Inuyasha relies on Miroku for advice and the latter is more helpful than not. Except for the times Inuyasha asks or says something that makes it way too easy for Miroku to mess with him. Like the time he told Inuyasha that if he doesn’t get Kagome whatever food she craves while pregnant, the baby will be born looking exactly like that food. And Inuyasha believed him.

• And if you thought Inuyasha was protective of Kagome before... oh boy! He’d be almost overbearing, but Kagome would see it as endearing. Most of the time. Sometimes, though, a woman has got to have her privacy. He also becomes more attentive, more gentle, sweeter.

• After their first child is born, Inuyasha gets a makeover of sorts. He’s always borrowing the Fire Rat to Kagome and the baby anyway, so he figured it’d be more practical to just pass the clothes on to them already and get something new for himself.

• It’s white.

• Inuyasha becomes taller, stronger. And often lets Kagome experiment with his hair with braids, top nots... and ponytails.

• Old Myoga is the first one to notice the resemblance. And it’s true. He’s the spitting image of Toga. Former enemies and allies often mistaken him for Toga and Kagome thinks the look on their (and Inuyasha’s) face is hilarious.

• Sesshoumaru does not care for it (I stole this one from @heavenin--hell).

• Inuyasha hates his human nights even more because now his vulnerability also means he might not be able to protect his family as he usually would (Together Changed by @goshinote and @lostinfantasyworlds inspired this one). Plus, the black hair and lack of dog ears confuses the baby, who cries and fusses for a good while until realizing it is, in fact, Inuyasha holding them (this one I saw in an adorable fanart I can’t find).

• But since he needs way less sleeping than humans and he spends the New Moons up anyway, Inuyasha gets a lot of quality time with their infant at night, which allows Kagome to actually get a good night sleep unless the baby is hungry.

• The Beads of Subjugation get dooled and chewed on. A lot.

• A little contest takes place between Kagome and Inuyasha about what the first word of their first child would be, with Kagome going for “dada” and Inuyasha going for “mama.”

• Kagome wins.

• Inuyasha’s fighting style changes. He still says some snarky remarks, but now it’s more to push his opponent‘s buttons down so they would get sloppy than anything else. After all, he has a child to think about and provide for now. He doesn’t have the luxury of gambling with his life anymore. He has a home to come back to and therefore won’t be taking any chances (credit to @born-for-eachother for this one).

• And so he becomes more lethal on the battle field. Pragmatic. Objective. Calculating. Decisive. Cold blooded. Much like... Sesshomaru.

• He had never been more offended on his life than the day Sango pointed this out to him.

• When the kids grow up a bit, Inuyasha and Kagome start to tell them bedtime stories, with the PG version of the story about how the met and defeated Naraku being their favorite.

• Kagome tries to be a reliable and calm narrator while Inuyasha exaggerates the events and the voices, almost always breaking objects of their house in the process.

• After hearing one too many times about the Beads of Subjugation, their child tries to “sit” Inuyasha. Of course it doesn’t work, but he still makes a big deal out of throwing himself on the ground every time they say the word just to hear them laugh.

• The first actual toy Inuyasha buys them is a ball, just like the one he had as a kid, at the same time accomplishing a childhood wish through them and ensuring that they would always have someone to play with.

• Kagome is more protective of their physical state while Inuyasha is more protective of their emotional one (see Fist Fight by @omgitscharlie)

• Inuyasha goes to Totosai and asks him to make a weapon out of one of his fangs to each of their children once they get old enough for it. Not necessarily a sword, just something of their choice and that better fits their personality.

• He would be a just father, doing his best to show no favoritism, treat his children equally and make sure no one felt overlooked or unloved.

• But truth be told, if one of their babies turn out to be a daughter, he would definitelly let her get away with almost anything, no matter how much of a gremlin she is. Daddy’s little girl would have him wrapped around her tiny fingers.

• Life never treated Inuyasha kindly. From a very young age, it was kill or be killed. It wouldn't be too far off for him to think the exact same thing could happen with his kids, therefore he tries to prepare them, to tough them up so they can take it.

• And I believe this sentiment would be significantly amplified with a son, because it would involve the whole “suck it up”, “men don’t cry” and “man of the house” aspect of it. The “it is your duty to protect your mother and sister when I’m gone” too, especially because he couldn’t protect Izayoi himself.

• It’s “tough love”, but it’s love nonetheless. And in the right dose, which I believe Inuyasha manages to nail, it can be very important for one’s development and growth.

• But it’s hard to imagine him being as tough with a daughter. Probably because he sees so much of Kagome on her that the mere idea of seeing her cry simply breaks him.

• Kagome would actually have to step in when it comes to disciplining and saying “no”, because he simply wouldn’t have it in him to do so.

There’s actually a really nice post by @keichanz I reblogged a while ago discussing precisely that, but I can’t find it to save my life (should I start to properly tag my reblogs? No, it’s a lot of work and I’m right not to).

Anyway, that’s all I got for now.

Peace out.

[mercy-burning]

Losing You Twice / 1: If I Hated You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and it turns out Y/N isn’t the only one struggling with the breakup. Category: Smut (18+), Angst Content Warnings: Language, drinking/getting drunk, penetrative/unprotected sex (If I missed anything, please let me know!) Word Count: 5,538

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

“My bedtime is the darkest, that’s when I’m brokenhearted. The nighttime is the hardest. It’d be easy, if I hated you.” —FLETCHER, If I Hated You

FEBRUARY 13th

It was Valentine's Day weekend, which sucked this time around. Every year for the past three years Y/N looked forward to Valentine's Day, but that was when she actually had someone to spend it with.

Well, someone she actually cared about, anyway... Whether or not Spencer actually knew it, she did really care about him. She was just stupid and didn't say it when he needed to hear it the most.

And now Valentine's Day was on Saturday and Y/N was still without him. Not alone, but still without the man who'd spent the significant holiday with her for the past three years. Memories of their dates and 'afterparties' flooded through her mind as she got ready for work like a montage, a cheesy love-song playlist she'd found on Spotify acting as the soundtrack.

Eventually she sighed and turned it off, opting for something more loud and obnoxious, and therefore not tainted by Spencer's memory. She applied what was left of her makeup and added a pair of earrings before turning the music off altogether and shoving her phone in her bag alongside her keys and other necessities.

Even though she wasn't emotionally prepared for all the cheesy Valentine's things she'd see and hear and experience throughout the weekend, it was still kind of nice to see that things in the bank never changed during the holidays— Everything in her life was so severely different at the moment, that if Marjorie had somehow decided to throw out all her elaborate decorations for each holiday, no matter how small, Y/N would have thought the world was truly ending.

Speaking of, she was met with Marjorie's brighter-than-the-sun smile almost immediately once she set her things in the breakroom.

"How's my little macaron this morning?" she chirped, Y/N chuckling slightly at the nickname— She brought macarons from the bakery down the street on her first birthday she spent at the bank, and ever since then, the older woman had adorned her with the namesake.

"She's alright, Marj... Better now that she's seen you..."

"That boy still on your mind, hon?"

Obviously Marjorie's intentions were good, but Y/N couldn't stand to think about the situation at all, least of all at work... So, setting her jacket on the rack, turned away so that her coworker wouldn't see the visible discomfort on her face, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. "So, what are your plans with Geno tomorrow night? Anything special?"

There was a brief pause before Marjorie cleared her throat as well. "Nothing short of our usual dinner plans, my dear. He's been so caught up with work at the Mill lately, I think we're just going to spend the night relaxing."

"Hm," Y/N said shortly, finally turning around and giving her the best smile she could. "Maybe I should take a page from your book and stay in..."

"You weren't going to?"

"No... Britt's been nagging me about getting out there so we're going out tomorrow night. We both haven't been single in a long time, so... Should be fun."

Marjorie didn't look convinced. Either way, she nodded with a smile and walked over to Y/N with something glittery and bright red in her hand— A cheap beaded necklace to clip her nametag onto. She draped it over Y/N's neck and patted her shoulders. "Well, I want you to have fun. And remember that you still have to come to work on Monday. Whatever shenanigans you get into should be reserved for Saturday night only so you can rest properly on Sunday, got it?"

Y/N laughed, thankful for the playful tone in Marjorie's voice. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, I joke, I joke," the older woman said with a bright laugh, turning to walk out of the break room. "A little..."

The smile on Y/N's face only really lasted until after Marjorie was out of sight, then she went into her bag and clipped her nametag onto the red beaded necklace with a sigh.

Was she excited to have a good night out with Britt? Of course. Hell, had it been literally any other day of the year, she would have been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement at the idea of going out to a bar, letting men hit on her until she finally let one of them take her back to his place for the night.

But it just felt like it was too soon.

Either way, she was glad that she'd get to see Britt again, after she'd been on vacation for Christmas and New Year's to see her family and only got back a few weeks ago. She'd seen her on Facetime of course, and they met up once for coffee right after Britt got back from her trip, but a well-needed night out and quality time getting ready together was something that had been missing from their friendship for almost a year.

Y/N knew Britt would most likely spend her time trying to hook them up with end-of-the-night dates, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

Even still, sleeping alone the night before was probably one of the worst spells of loneliness she'd ever had. It was normal to be sad spending the first Valentine's Day in years away from a significant other, but knowing how things ended between them—bitter and stained with words left unsaid—this time was just... cold.

And that was putting it lightly.

Y/N laid in bed that night, her eyes wide open and staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that adorned the ceiling. They used to give her comfort, but now they just reminded her of all the nights she'd spend with Spencer, listening to him tell stories about the constellations. They were some of the most peaceful memories she had.

And now those, too—those stars that had grounded her pretty much all her life and reminded her of the better days—were tainted by her inability to properly communicate.

She almost thought about taking them down.

But if she was really going to get over him this time, for good, then she'd have to learn to make new memories with the stars. Even if it was painful. Even if replacing those memories and writing new ones over them absolutely tore her soul to pieces.

And, as if that pain wasn't enough, that night Y/N dreamt of him, making love to her amongst the stars in every galaxy, only to wake up the next morning cold and alone.

FEBRUARY 14th

She promptly decided that she hated his guts.

It was Valentine's Day, Y/N was respectfully buzzed, and courtesy of two beers and four shots of tequila, she'd just deleted Spencer's number from her phone.

"I'm done," she said, waving a hand at Britt and shoving her phone in her purse. "He doesn't deserve my wallowing."

"Yeah!"

Britt was significantly the more drunk of the two, resulting in a fit of giggles after gaining some stares from the people around them at her sudden outburst.

Y/N smiled, finishing off another shot and shaking her head. "We need more!"

"More shots!" Britt hurried off to grab them, leaving her friend behind with a half-drunken smile that also only felt half-genuine.

Sure, she decided she hated Spencer's guts, but her heart didn't exactly agree well with that sentiment. Even after deleting his number from her phone, after downing all that alcohol, her heart still ached.

Y/N knew deep down that getting over him was going to take some time. A lot of time... But maybe one night of distraction would help.

So the shots kept coming, and by the end of the night, Y/N was just about at her limit.

Which was near black-out drunk. And when you're that drunk you tend to make decisions you wouldn't soberly condone.

Britt got into a cab, and she begged Y/N to come with her, but she assured her friend that she had someone to come pick her up. Eventually the cab driver got tired of their inability to decide, and when Y/N told him to go, he did, leaving her alone on the side of the street at 1am.

Unfortunately, it was incredibly cold, and she didn't really have anyone to come pick her up. And that's where the bad decisions started.

Y/N pulled her phone out, a long sigh escaping her as she dialed the number by heart.

Would he even pick up? He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts before, so why would it have been any different now? Not to mention it was Valentine's Day Weekend. With her luck, he was probably in bed with someone else. Someone who wasn't her. As she listened to the dial tone repeating in her ear, images of him wrapped up with somebody else—sleeping in the bed she'd slept in many times before—clouded her drunken brain and made her more angry than anything.

Her gut twisted, and she almost hung up.

But then the low buzz of the dial tone abruptly stopped and in its place came his voice.

"Y/N?"

Her name on his lips, even through the phone, was grounding, the anger in her system melting away and revealing a coat of drunken relief.

"Spencer! You answered!"

"Yeah... Are you— Is everything okay?"

"Pff, yeah, 'm-fine. Just really fucking cold."

"You're not outside, are you?"

"Duh, I'm outside... I wouldn't be cold in-side... Besides, I didn't call t'alk bout the weather, I need you t'come pick me up."

There was a brief pause, and for a moment Y/N didn't think he was going to say anything she wanted to hear. She swayed on the sidewalk, shivering and praying that he would throw her a bone, even if she'd regret it all in the morning.

"Where are you?" he said finally, and despite herself, she smiled.

FEBRUARY 15th

Spencer couldn't believe he was picking her up at near two in the morning.

Honestly, he'd initially thought about ignoring her call again, but remembering the day it was and taking note of the time, he figured she was most likely in some type of inebriated trouble.

His instincts were right, of course, but he wished that he could have been wrong. He wished she'd only been calling to drunkenly ramble on about how she missed him or maybe how he was stupid and she never wanted to see his face ever again, because that was normal. At least then he could have hung up after she was done and never thought about it again— it was a normal step in any relationship that helped move things along. They could have gotten on with their lives and it would have all been over.

But of course it was never that simple.

Y/N was never that simple.

He pictured her on the street near some bar, alone and cold and drunk, and of course he would have been the only one she could call to rescue her. After all, he'd been pretty much the only thing she'd ever known to make her feel safe.

Still, he wished he was capable of only giving her a ride home and then leaving.

But again, it was never that simple.

It was easy getting her into the car— that wasn't what he was worried about. Rather, it was the fated moment where she'd ask him to stay after he finally got her tucked safely into bed that worried him. Because it was bad enough that it was Y/N... It was her in all her alluring glory, and he'd never been able to deny her anything no matter how badly he tried or wanted to.

Now add on the fact that she was drunk, and most likely sad on their first Valentine's Day apart, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Even if she'd broken his heart, Spencer still cared about her.

Which is why he inevitably agreed to stay, at least until she fell asleep.

He knew her well enough to know all the ways she'd try to get him under the covers with her, so it was a familiar amusement that settled in his being when he was finally able to get on top of the covers with her underneath. But as he entertained her silly little questions with the right answers until she fell asleep, Spencer noticed something else accompanying that amusement.

Guilt.

And then anger for feeling guilty about her sadness— sadness that could have been avoided had she just gotten over whatever was holding her back and either returned his "I love you" or  told him she wasn't feeling the same way just yet.

All she had to do was talk.

He had a right to feel upset about Y/N holding back when he'd been nothing but patient, spending almost every year of their relationship trying to make her see that she had nothing to be afraid of. He'd given her every chance to talk about what she was feeling, whether it was happy or not, and every time she pushed it all away in favor of sex.

That wasn't what he wanted in a relationship, so he ended it. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

So why was he feeling so fucking guilty?

He blamed his good nature and innate need to please people, to make them feel good and happy. But he also blamed Y/N and her adorable drunken sleeping face.

He watched as she slept, willing himself not to forget the way she hurt him. She'd completely stolen his heart and shattered it at the same time, and if he was being honest, she still held some of the pieces. But he couldn't get them back, not if he didn't want to risk shattering her own heart in the process.

It felt like they were tied together by some strong, invisible force that wouldn't break unless both of them broke right along with it.

So... maybe he could afford to leave those pieces of his heart with her. He'd have to if they were going to get out of this alive. Not unscathed, sure, but alive nonetheless.

Once he was sure she was deep in sleep, Spencer quietly and carefully got off the bed and navigated through her apartment, getting her a glass of water and leaving it on the table next to her bed. And because he couldn't help it, he cleaned up some of the clothes that were scattered around her floor, depositing them into the hamper and straightening out a few more things that were out of place.

He looked over at her sleeping figure one more time, sighed, and then left, keeping her bedroom door open just a crack.

***

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer.

Despite his better judgement, he'd plopped himself down on her couch after making sure she was sound asleep, hoping to catch his breath and sort through what he was feeling before he got behind the wheel. But of course, it was 2am and he was exhausted, and he couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes and drifting off.

And now he was sitting up, looking around the apartment through the lens of morning.

Though the curtains were sheer, they didn't provide much light, but enough of it showed him just how familiar the space was. Y/N hadn't moved anything around. The same art was on the same walls, the potted ivy plant on her mantle sat un-watered and withering, and every book and record and DVD on her shelves was in the exact same spot as they'd all been the last time he was there in December.

Meanwhile, after the breakup he'd re-arranged everything. He was so sure that they were through for good this time around that he wanted a clean slate. Not that he wanted to rid himself of her memory completely, but if he was going to move on from the hold she'd had on him, he had to do something...

And yet, he ended up at her apartment the morning after Valentine's Day all the same.

He heard the shower running faintly a couple rooms away. You didn't have to pass the couch to get there, so maybe she hadn't seen him sleeping and he could get away cleanly.

Spencer scrambled off the couch, thankful that he hadn't removed his jacket or his shoes and that he could just sprint towards the door without having to find any of his belongings.

But as luck would have it, the second he took a step, the shower turned off. He had to get out of there quickly, but if he did then she'd definitely know he'd stayed overnight. But if he went quietly, he wouldn't have enough time before she caught him.

Maybe I could hide...

He shook the thought with a roll of his eyes, settling on the clearest course of action, which was to make as quick of a getaway as he could. He'd try to be quiet as well, though the creaky door was going to be nearly impossible to get through without a sound.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.

"You didn't think you could spend the night and then leave without saying goodbye, did 'ja?"

The pure amusement in her tone made his stomach churn, and it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

Spencer turned and smiled softly, avoiding looking at her completely. "Sorry. Didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother."

That sentiment held less amusement and more sincerity, which was what guided his eyes to meet the woman who said the words.

His stomach twisted again when he saw her, exactly like he knew she'd be— wrapped in nothing but a thin towel with near-dripping hair cascading down her back. Her legs were bare and exposed, the towel not only thin but short, which meant that her chest was also practically spilling out of it. Despite the obvious and inevitable hungover look in her eye, there was also a good splash of that mischief that'd always been there— the kind that spelled out trouble.

He needed to get out of there.

"Well, um... I'm glad I got you home safe," he said, clearing his throat. "I should... I should go."

"You sure you don't wanna stay for breakfast?"

Spencer could have sworn she was teasing him, dangling her body in front of him like a meal they both knew he wouldn't be able to resist. But then she added, "I've got everything I need for your favorite omelet," and he exhaled with a small smile, exhausted with his own mind for convincing him that she was out to pull him back in.

Still, he declined. "No, I... I shouldn't. But, uh, thank you..."

"You sure?"

This time when he looked up at her, she was closer. She was gently striding forward to meet him, and he half thought about backing up towards the door until he realized he was already there.

"I—I'm sure. Really."

"But you drove around all night just to take me home when I was drunk, the least I can do is feed you..."

"Eh, it's alright. It's... Nothing I haven't done before."

She stopped then, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. It was like her whole demeanor changed—just for a second—from the prowess she'd always been, to what seemed to be a woman filled with sadness and regret. It didn't last long though, just enough for Spencer to notice it before she looked back up at him with that wicked gleam in her eye and a remark right at the tip of her tongue.

"Still. I feel bad, making you do all that for me... Especially now."

He wasn't sure what to make of this... It seemed like she was sincere, but she was also alluring, calling to him like a siren leading him to his ultimate demise. And while he'd come to know that as merely a part of her nature, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was doing it on purpose.

She was in a skimpy towel, after all, and she definitely knew how to use that to her advantage.

It didn't help that he didn't have the courage to leave. Everything inside of him right then longed to drop that towel and indulge himself once more. Putting aside all the heartache and the differences they shared, all he felt in that moment was the need to touch her— to get lost in her and never be found again.

She was his fatal flaw, and it was painfully obvious.

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer...

He was over to her in just three strides, throwing off his jacket and tossing it aside before cradling her face with his hands and bringing their lips together for the first time since Christmas Eve.

The small whine in her throat signaled that she hadn't expected it, but welcomed it all the same. The moment she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, the towel fell to the floor, and there was no going back.

"What about breakfast?" Y/N breathed out once they pulled away for air.

Spencer contemplated, studying her face, seeing the way her eyes sparkled, and decided on the two words that sealed his fate.

"Screw breakfast."

Their lips were melded together almost as soon as the words left his mouth. And it wasn't long before every other part of their bodies were melded together as well.

Y/N helped him take the rest of his clothes off as they danced around the entryway and the living room. Everything was open, no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, so to compensate for the lack of breakfast they'd be eating, they migrated to the kitchen counter once Spencer had off everything but his boxers.

He trapped her against the cool marble of the countertop, her back hitting it solid and sending a shiver up her spine. Meanwhile his hands roamed her body, unsure of where to be other than on her at all times, whether it be her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts, or her ass. He wanted to feel all of her, and quite frankly she wanted the same.

She even told him so, in her own way, by bringing one of her legs up and wrapping it around his waist, pulling him closer to her as she wove her fingers through his hair and tasted his tongue with her own.

The action elicited a groan from his mouth, low and desperate. Spencer settled his hands on her waist and gripped it tight, silently telling her what to do.

So she jumped up and he helped guide her swiftly onto the counter. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, and he found himself grinding into her hips, urgent to feel every part of her. And thankfully she was feeling rather desperate herself, because she rolled her hips up into him in return, breaking their mouths apart just briefly to speak.

"Fuck me..."

There was so much he wanted to say to her in that moment— how badly he was feeling about keeping her entertained while he was slowly deteriorating inside from her emotional detachment and rejection, how much she frustrated him, and more prominently, how she was so goddamn impatient and that he was getting there...

But all that he could manage was a broken, desperate whisper of her name.

It was all he'd ever known.

All that frustration... All that anger, heartache, passion, and time apart combined beautifully into those few syllables that made up her name and tore him apart from the inside out.

And his hands were just as destructive.

Spencer deftly dropped his boxers to the ground and pushed forward, almost losing all sense of self the moment the head of his dick finally made contact with her cunt. He made his way inside of her and then used both of his hands to grip her waist and bring her closer, their mouths connecting harshly as they found one another once again.

His grip was bruising— not possessive in any way, but desperate, like he had to cling to her for dear life or he wouldn't live to see another day. He held himself inside her, sighing and whimpering into her mouth as she clenched around him. It was so familiar, so comfortable and exhilarating that he almost didn't even want to move. He thought about staying there, still inside her forever.

But as always, Y/N was insatiable.

She wrapped all her limbs around him and held on, rolling her hips and seeking friction in any way possible when she briefly tore her lips away from his.

"I need you, baby, please..."

Even as his heart started to rumble in his chest, well aware of the fact that she still probably didn't love him the way he loved her, Spencer gave her everything. He pulled out and snapped his hips forward again, setting a strong, steady pace that had Y/N's eyes rolling back, and the payoff of hearing her sigh out his name was more than enough to keep him going.

Her nails dug deliciously into his shoulders, the faint sting adding something reminiscent of gasoline to a fire. The flames grew taller and brighter the more he fucked her, and with each gradual increase of volume and intensity, it was a wonder the whole kitchen around them hadn't literally burst into flames.

That's how they always were.

Together like this, so lost in the high of each others' bodies, it was easy to forget the things that made their relationship so hard. It was easy to let all the negativity slip away into the throes of pent-up, well-needed sex. The high they gave each other was merely that— A high...

A distraction.

And while that's exactly what Y/N needed, what she preferred in most cases, it's what Spencer recognized as completely unhealthy, despite his coming back to it every time.

It's also why he dreaded the moment ending. Because once they came down from the high, all that's left would be sadness, regret... Guilt... Their fire burned hot, brightly and wildly, but in the aftermath would lay only a thick layer of deadly smoke between them— hard to navigate, and nearly impossible to breathe in without suffocating.

So they simply burned and burned and burned...

Spencer gripped her so tight he was sure to leave her with bruising. And in turn Y/N dragged her nails down his back and dug them into his ass, her palm laying firmly over the muscles that aided in fucking her into the marbled surface. She whined out curses and moans, and he cried out broken whispers of her name, pet names, and curses alike.

Even once she'd come, he kept going, willing himself to hold on as long as he could. She whined into his ear at the overstimulation. And rather than keeping her legs wrapped around his body, she decided to spread them wide, perching her heels up on the counter as far as she could go and anchoring her fingers through his hair.

And though she might not have had enough orgasms in her to keep up with him, she welcomed it all the same—She welcomed the burn just as much as he did.

Even still, no fire can burn forever.

All concept of time was lost by the time Spencer finally collapsed forward, completely spent and barely standing on weak legs after coming twice. Y/N held onto him tightly to keep him upwards, lightly massaging his scalp with gentle fingers and closing her eyes as she focused on his breathing— the way it fanned over the skin of her bare shoulder and how it sounded, perfectly in time with hers...

It was the most peaceful she'd been in a long time.

She felt him pull out of her, the both of them groaning at the feeling, and a little at the mess it would make.

Spencer gently peeled his body off of hers, sniffing once and avoiding her eyes. "Sorry... You just got out of the shower..."

"It's fine," Y/N breathed. She begged him silently to look her in the eye, but he remained still... Most likely thinking. She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

So, in an effort to lighten the mood a bit, she added with a breathy laugh, "Besides... It's nothing I haven't done before."

The callback to his words—and memories of all the times they'd found themselves in this position before—got Spencer to laugh a little, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'll... I'll grab the wipes?"

"Oh. Sure," Y/N returned with a thankful smile. It was hopeful, too, though the moment he was out of eyesight, it turned rather sad.

She'd known that behavior before, seen that hesitation in his movements and that sound in his voice.

It was guilt.

Regret.

Probably a bit of self-hatred, too.

When he returned, a pile of her clothes in hand and the bag of wipes on top, she took them from him with a kind smile and cleaned herself up while he put his clothes back on.

The silence was more uncomfortable than anything either of them had ever experienced.

So much so, that Y/N couldn't even muster up the courage to ask him to stay for breakfast— and she always did after one of their post-break hookups.

Maybe this time really was different.

Spencer was just at the door again when she stopped him.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was so small, he almost didn't hear it. "For bringing me home..."

But he paused, turned, and finally looked her in the eye.

He almost sunk to his knees right there...

Seeing her, arms crossed like she was trying to keep warm, as her head hung low and she looked up at him through sad, hooded eyelids...

It reminded him of the woman he fell in love with.

But in his peripheral, he saw the towel on the floor and was reminded of the woman who'd shattered his heart.

Spencer cleared his throat. Once upon a time he might have returned her thanks with, Anytime, but... Honestly he wasn't sure there could ever be another time. For his sanity, he'd have to avoid 'anytime' at all costs.

So, he settled on, "You're welcome."

He was glad to see her return his kind smile with one of her own, even if it was tainted with sadness, and a small wave goodbye.

Maybe this time it would stick.

Even still, as he closed the door behind him and made his way to the parking lot, for some reason it didn't quite feel like goodbye.

And some of that deadly smoke that settled in his lungs as he drove further and further away from her apartment was inclined to agree.

***

Neither of them could sleep that night.

While Spencer stared out the window of the jet, a little annoyed to be called out on a case so late but at least thankful for the distraction, Y/N laid in bed, staring at the stars on her ceiling.

The same constellation caught their eye.

Columba.

The Dove.

She hadn't even meant to arrange the stars like that, but one night after a date, they were laying in her bed and Spencer pointed out that the cluster of plastic stars right in the corner of the ceiling looked like Columba.

Y/N fondly remembered Spencer telling her about how it was originally named to represent Noah's dove, which searched for dry land during the great biblical flood and returned carrying an olive branch to make news of its recession— of peace at last.

The memory made her smile. It tugged at her heart and made her dreams of him even more vivid.

All the same, Spencer noticed the constellation outside the jet window and remembered that same night. The smile on her face as he told her the story, the feel of her fingers gliding softly over the bare skin of his forearm...

It was the first night since he'd met her that he thought it.

I love her...

He almost told her then, too, but he was afraid it was too soon. So he refrained.

Looking back, Spencer was starting to regret that— Maybe without that extra time together, breaking up would have been easier. But instead, he gave her more time. He gave himself more time to fall deeper in love with her, and in the end it still wasn't enough.

Now they were both looking at the same constellation, one made of plastic and the other of gas, wondering if their flood would ever recede.

And in the event that it did... Who would be the dove, and what would be their olive branch?

“You know I dream about getting back together in the future, I could focus on you. But if I leave right now, I hope that you don’t find someone that touches you the way that I do...”

***

SERIES TAGLIST:   @reidyoulikeabook​ @yourmisosoup​ @fortheloveofcriminalminds​ @bellzo17​ @altsvu​ @flipperpenguins​ @mcumorningstar​

TAGS NOT WORKING: @reid-to-me @totallyclearwitch

[adam-banks2024]

going to eden hall’s cotillion with adam banks

you were super nervous about the dance

it was one week away and you still didn’t have anyone to go with

at this point you thought you’d have to go alone

and you were excited

this was gonna be different than anything that you’ve ever went to before

yeah, you went to prom when you were a sophomore at a smaller school, and you went to winter formal in january, but you had never gone to anything as fancy as this before

you didn’t even know what it was at first

big thank you to google

as soon as you learned that it was a “fancy french dance” as russ put it, you started picking up more hours at your part time job

you didn’t need anything super extravagant or expensive, but you wanted to look nice and feel pretty

you talked to charlie about it almost everyday, and he seemed as excited about it as you

“i think i’m gonna ask lisa”

“what kinda tux should i get?”

“what kinda flowers do girls like?”

yada yada

you helped him with everything, of course

and he helped you pick out a dress, and a corsage, the whole shabang

and so the only thing left was to get a date

easy right

haha

laugh out louddddd

no.

but charlie was optimistic

he knew that you liked someone, but he didn’t know who it was

julie and connie didn’t even know so he knew there was no hope trying to find out

so you collectively agreed to find someone to go with as friends

you talked to ken first

made a really nice poster board, and made some ice skating puns

he looked super happy, and he laughed the whole time you were embarrassing yourself with your cheesy poster

he said thanks

but apparently...

he was

going with

A SENIOR GIRL

like damn ken okay

i see u

so you were upset

but kinda proud of him

so that meant it was on to the next person

russ? maybe

yeah

he’s be funny, plus it wouldn’t be awkward with him

so you get him some candy instead of a poster board, and walked up to him during lunch

“thanks, but averman, goldberg, and i are going together. kind of like a bachelors thing, yknow?”

you sighed

that takes out one more person

who else who else

DWAYNE

you could ask dwayne, and he’d be a gentleman, and you’d have an amazing time

you ditched the candy, borrowed a cowboy hat, and gave him a sunflower and asked him

he thought the gesture was sweet, and he was obsessed with the flower

“i think i’ll name him bob”

bless his heart

But He Said He Was Already Going With A Girl From A Different School.

cool. cool. cool

fulton! he’s chill!

you’d probably have a comfortable night with him and still have a good time

you game him a card with a hockey puck on it, with some cheesy saying about hitting hockey pucks too hard

you didn’t know

this was like the umpteenth guy you asked

he laughed at the gesture and thanked you for the card

“sorry y/n, but i’m going with portman. date night yknow?”

*sigh*

you understood

because let’s be honest that’s cute

but now that rules everyone out

except for him

but no because you’ve seen a million girls ask him

so you figured it’d be best if you went alone

you even considered going with julie but she’s going with scooter

IGHHSKABDVEIEJTBBRBE

why is this so harrrd

“i could talk to adam?”

charlie kept insisting

you kept saying no because you didn’t want a pity date

“i can just meet you all there”

that sounded a lot less sad in your head

“just ask him tomorrow, please?”

fine.

you decided that you’d ask him

on friday

“y/N tHaTs ThE dAy BeFoRe ThE DaNcE”

itll be fine

except it wasn’t fine

you worked your ass off the whole week leading up to friday

you worked everyday, you had exams all week, and you still had hockey practice

you were dead by friday

sweats to class, energy drink in hand, bags under your eyes

and your slippers

you had zero cares today

then you remEMBERED

charlie would absolutely murder you if you didn’t end up asking

so you said screw it (:

you and adam saw each other every day during 5th hour because you both had a free period then

you guys usually hung out and giggled like little kids

but that’s usually where it ended

if he saw you in the halls he would lend a nod, but that’s about the extent of things

so you thought hey, just ask him then

aha. he did a double take when he saw you walk in the library

“are you feeling okay?”

“yeah just tired. working like hell for this stupid cotillion”

he just looked confused

“not everyone has money to burn, cake eater”

he looked embarrassed now

shit

“nono, i didn’t mean it like that. i- i’m just tired”

he shook his head as he smiled and gestures for you to sit down

uh oh

now is the time

where you have to say the thing

nonono

“hey so,...uh!”

“yep?”

why does he lOOK SO GOOD

“so i asked, like, almost everyone...”

great now you sound pathetic

“...and they’ve just been busy so it’s cool...”

you’re just digging yourself deeper

“...but i still don’t have a date to the cotillion, so... would you— wanna go?”

he sat in silence for a moment

so you’re just gonna take that as a no

“what, no poster board, or candies, or sentimental cards?

w h a t

“you mean you saw all that?”

“kinda, yeah”

“o h”

now you didn’t know what to say. you just felt bad

“but yes. i’d love to go”

you did it.

he said yes?!

bet

YOU GUYS HAD SO MUCH FUN

he took you out to a nice restaurant

complimented your dress

your hair

your face

yes your face

AHHHHH this boy

and he actually danced with you?

some songs he knew came on and you were just jumping up and down in the middle of the dance floor

you guys even...

slowdanced

gasp

he was an awkward distance from you, not wanting to overstep your boundaries

but you pulled him closer

and he thought it was nice :)))))

at the end of the night you two were beat

he even walked you back to your dorm room which was in a building opposite than his was :,)

“well, it’s been an amazing night. and now i get to walk across campus”

and then

then you

INVITED HIM INTO YOUR DORM?

wtf

so yeah

he seemed giddy

and you offered him some sleeping clothes

and you slept on separate sides of the bed

and then you got a little closer

and then a little more closer...

and then y’all were cuddling

need i say more?

so yeah, it was just a really nice night for you two :))))

[fleursdemeduse]

Remembrance AU: Day and Night

I only have 5 more planned parts before the "main story" is completed.

Warnings: Mention of Death ; Unconsciousness ; Unrequited[?] Love

Words: 3.5k

Sometimes, it was amazing to you how lucky you had been.

You remembered how warm the air had been when you had found the flower field. The breeze drug the long grass into graceful waves and the different wildflowers swayed gently. Trees framed the field except for the large weeping cherry tree that sat upon a small hill. No other flowers grew on the hill, but you hadn’t thought anything of it. It was so quiet there, so serene. The air tasted sweet. It was like a scene from a storybook.

You had immediately hunted down Techno and took him away from his farming to see the spot. Back then, you hadn’t known each other for long, but you had felt so close to him already. It was like you had already known each other for all of the lifetimes he had talked about.

“Isn’t it gorgeous, Tech?” He grunted out a quiet “yeah” and you grinned up at him. Back then, during the war, he always wore his mask. The pig skull strapped tightly to his face hid his features, including his eyes, but you didn’t care. His voice usually had enough inflection for you to know his expression. You giggled as you sprinted forward, towards the giant tree in the middle. “Follow me! I wanna watch the clouds.”

He had relented. Your smile could have rivaled the beauty of the field in that moment, and he felt himself falling for you even deeper. He’d never tell you, though. Despite how often you could respawn, he wouldn’t let himself be with someone he could lose. And he very much could lose you. You could just not come back one of these times, you could hate him for the things he’s done, you could see how Wilbur looked at you and turn that damning smile onto him. He wouldn’t prevent you from being happy.

You sat with your back against the bark of the large tree, some of the light petals shaking loose and drifting slowly down around you. He would remember this moment forever.

He had laid next to you, his hair a brighter pink than the flowers above the two of you and spread in a halo around his head.

“What’s gonna happen when this is all over?” He thought it over, watching the clouds mimic the flowers in their sluggishness.

“We move on.” You nodded, stomach flipping at the way he said “we” and not “I”. That had to have been progress in your friendship, no?

You sat there quietly, contemplative, while he took in the coolness of the shade compared to how hot the area in the trees seemed to be. This was a spot Phil would have loved had he been around. He could imagine a small cottage nearby and the overgrown field turned into a garden. The voices agreed with this thought. There would be cakes and bonfires on summer nights. He’d bring you with him to visit. Would you like Phil? You two were similar in a lot of ways. Even in past lives, Phil had a fatherly streak for himself, Tommy and Wilbur. Sometimes Tubbo and Ranboo were included in that equation. When would the teen show up? This couldn’t have been a timeline without him. Everyone else was here and the hybrid knew you’d love the kid just like you did the other two. He hadn’t interacted with him much in other lives, but the kid was nice enough. Maybe you’d-

"I can braid your hair for you, if you want."

Your voice had broken through the voices that had idly whispered in his ears. He considered it for a moment, chat now becoming louder.

YES!!

Please don’t let them.

What kind of braid do they want to do?

Are they going to play with it too?

Don’t turn your back on them.

The mask would have to come off.

E.

Why are they so nice to us?

E.

Do it.

What if they did a french braid? That’d look nice.

Their hands look soft.

What if they pull our hair?

Let them do it. They’ll be so proud of themselves.

Technoblade sighed and moved his head to your lap. “I’m not moving any more. You can do what you wish. I’m gonna nap.”

Your smile was electric and he pressed his lips together to fight the urge to groan at the sight. He almost lost that fight when your fingers carded through his hair.

“Can I take off your mask?”

“No.” His answer was immediate. “Work around it.”

You pressed your lips together. “Can I unbuckle it, at least? I don’t want to pull.”

“Do what you want.” He closed his eyes, feeling you mess with the strap before carefully laying it over the side of the skull, careful to not dislodge it. The extra effort you took to make him comfortable made his heart flutter in his chest a bit more than it should have. Did you do this with anyone else in their tiny rebellion? He had noticed Tommy had been walking around with a small braid framing his face lately and he had seen Wilbur with one pinned back in his hair when he removed his beanie a while back. Were they your doing? It was his turn, then.

He craved your touch more than he should have. It was much softer than his own and the contrast wasn’t something he experienced often. He enjoyed the fleeting touches you experimented with on him as you tested his boundaries. The random hugs you gave him when you were happy and forgot yourself for a moment. The times when you’d unconsciously touch his arm while you two talked. The friendly bumps when you two walked. He was happy to be your friend.

“Have you ever thought about how much worse our lives would be without each other?”

He took a moment to think the question over.

“Well, I figure mine would have been about the same. I’ve spent plenty of them without you before, so it’d have just been another to add on.” Your hands paused in his hair and the hybrid opened an eye to watch your lips tilted into a frown. He had never liked that expression on you.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

“I think having you in mine now is pretty nice.” The sentence left his lips before he could stop it. It was too sentimental for him. He wasn’t one to speak before thinking, but the way you lit up at his outburst made him happy he had too.

“I think having you in mine is pretty nice too, Tech.” Your nails ran lightly over his temple as you pulled hair back into the mess you were currently trying to tame it into.

“I’m not a dog, [y/n].”

“I never said you were.”

“Then stop scratchin’ me like one.” You laughed and he huffed proudly at the sound. “I do like spendin’ time with you, though.”

He heard you hum quietly, feeling the way his hair tugged as your fingers worked.

“You make everything quiet. Sometimes, I can see the past so clearly in my mind… it almost feels like it’s real and happenin’ again. But it isn’t. Only now is real. And when I’m with you, even the voices will occasionally take a break.” He watched the way your lips fell to a soft “o” shape. He sighed, feeling like if he didn’t go on, you’d say something contrary to him. He didn’t spill his guts like this. Not literally or metaphorically. But something about you made him want to go on and on. “You have this special power over everyone. It’s amazin’. I didn’t even know what to think when we met. I was ready to move on and never see you again, but you kept persisting. You just trusted this violent stranger who can’t handle social situations, and I’m here tryin’ to figure out what I’m supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own mind.”

Your laughter felt like you punched him in the gut and he turned his head to look up at you. Your smile didn’t look mocking, and when your amusement faded, the curve of your lips remained untaunting.

“You just trust me back, Tech. I don’t have any special powers aside from not being able to stay dead.” He felt your hand grip his arm and squeeze lightly. “I’m not going anywhere either. You’re right. I’m relentless. You’re not gonna get rid of me unless you tell me you want me gone.”

His heart felt like it was in his throat.

“And honestly?” His breath caught for a moment at the look in your eyes as you gazed down at him. He felt so naked under it, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. “I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I've met.”

“Bold of you to say, considerin’ I’m wearin’ a mask.” He mumbled, heartbeat suddenly picking up and palpitating as if he were in battle. It felt like you really could see him, all of him, despite the covering. He didn’t feel like he had, or even could, hide anything from you. Every scar, every expression, every thought. You had taken his admittance of the voices in stride, even talked to them directly sometimes. You weren’t afraid to touch him, to be soft with him. If he could spend the rest of this timeline with you, even if this was the only one you were in, he’d feel full.

Your smile wavered when you watched Techno reach up as if to remove his mask.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing you some of the worst parts of me.” He sat up, moving the item to his lap, before looking back at you. Seeing you unfiltered by the mask was a whole new experience. It was like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. His heart began skipping every other beat. What did you think of his face? Tommy, Tubbo and Wilbur had seen it plenty of times, remembered it in other lifetimes when he did have a humanoid face, but this was your first time.

The grin that pulled your lips bigger slightly alleviated his worries, though. And you reached forward, touching his face like you had Tommy’s a hundred times while whispering a quiet “Wow” he didn’t know if he should have been flattered by. He let you trace your fingers over the scar over his nose and brush your thumb over his lower lip before you pulled his mouth open. You examined his slightly-sharper teeth with a fascination he didn’t know felt more clinical or childlike. Your expression turned oddly serious.

“I was wrong.” His veins suddenly felt like ice as you pulled your hand away. “You’re no person, Tech. You’re a god and I am lucky to be in your presence.”

The ice melted just as quickly as it had formed and his cheeks suddenly felt like they were aflame. He had been called that hundreds of times, but the way it rolled off your tongue sounded like reverence. He swallowed and looked away. You were wrong about having no power over him as well. You shouldn’t have been able to play with his emotions as easily as you did. “You’re cruel, [y/n].”

He smirked at the sound of your scoff as you feigned indignation before turning back to you. He watched your eyes widen before you reached for his face once more. He let you.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen you smile.”

He prayed you thought his was as brilliant as yours.

Being close to others was a good thing, wasn’t it? Even if you didn’t share any memories with them, you’d still be there for them, no matter what.

Tommy had crawled into your bed once more while you slept. He had done so plenty of times during the revolution until L’Manburg had been won back. Now, he had his own house he could sleep comfortably in. But he had a key to your house. So as long as he locked the front door whenever he snuck in, when the mattress dipped at his weight, you would always peel open an eye before pulling the covers up for him to crawl under. You would never be upset with him about breaking in just to cuddle and eventually fall asleep. You would never mention it after the fact either. He didn’t need to be embarrassed in front of the others and face the taunts from not being able to sleep properly when he was alone. He just needed comfort sometimes. The blond was, after all, still a child just swept up in all of this.

You curled around him, his gangly limbs tucked into his chest awkwardly as you tried to give him the most paternal embrace possible. You didn’t press him for details like you used to, just tucked the golden braid you had weaved into his shaggy hair behind his ear and smile sleepily at him in hopes he would smile back.

He wouldn’t, but you never expected him to.

“Hey Toms?” He hummed in response, looking at the part of the pillow tucked under your throat. “Did I ever tell you the story about how the moon did the sun’s work every night because he loved her so much?”

“No.” His voice cracked, but you ignored it, choosing instead to roll onto your back to look at the stars through your skylight. You felt him do the same.

“Well, when the sun found the moon, it had just been happenstance. He was drinking tea under the large cherry tree in his garden and she was so tired. She had not stopped working. Day was the only thing anyone knew. Her light and warmth were so abundant, she was barely hanging on from the exhaustion it exerted on her. And so she collapsed in his garden, unconscious. He brought her into the shade of his tree and the world darkened. Plants and people died in the absence of light more than they had before. However, when she woke up and when they locked eyes, the world finally felt like it was spinning. He had been so kind to her. How could she not love him? But she kept it from him. She visited everyday and they would share tea and talk for hours. She sat just outside of the tree’s shade despite how tired it made her.”

You watched Tommy turn his head to watch you speak from the corner of your eye.

“Eventually he asked her “Why do you come everyday when you look so tired? Why don’t you rest?”. “Because I cannot. I must cast light onto my children and help them grow.” She replied. “Why do you never leave the shade of your tree?” He laughed at her question. “Because I cannot. The light is too bright and I will disappear.” She took his answer and they moved on.”

The blond listened to the voices you used for each character, slowly closing his eyes.

“One day, when she collapsed again, she was still conscious when the moon stepped out of his shade once more to rescue her. The world lightened once more, but only dimly. He reflected her warmth onto everything. It was a soft light and the people marveled at his beauty. He decided then he would take on half of her work when they had tea because he too loved her, but kept it to himself. And from then on, whenever she would visit for tea, he would sit outside of the comfort of his cherry tree, and she would perch herself under it and let him show his brightness to the world. And they were happy.”

You looked back at him, trying to not giggle at how sleepy he looked.

“Tha’s a lame story.” He quietly slurred and you shrugged your shoulders a little, rolling back over to face him fully.

“I think Phil would disagree.”

“Phil?”

“Yep. That’s his favorite story.” He pouted a little and your chest warmed at how childlike he looked.

“Then I think…” His voice was becoming softer, trailing off. “I think it’ll be mine too.”

You listened to his breathing soften before evening out completely and you’d fall back asleep.

People trusted you so much and you didn’t know what you did to deserve it.

The pendent was cold in your hands.

A silver heron stared up at you with a lone emerald eye and you prayed it wasn’t made from the same friendship emerald that Technoblade had gifted him with.

“I got that from a friend a long time ago. His child, Love, actually had it for a while when his mother passed, but when his kid suffered the same fate, Psarocolius gave it to me. Said it was bad luck or something.” You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“Wow, Phil. What an amazing gift.” Your sarcasm was palatable. He bopped the top of your head with a gentle chop of his hand.

“Shut. It’s a way to reach out to Kristin.” You had been complaining to him about how left out you felt whenever everyone else was talking about their previous lives, hoping the older man would have some good advice for you. “That’s why Psar’s wife and kid died. There was no other way.”

“So your wife just killed them off? How cold.” He shook his head.

“Nah, mate. They asked her to. She still feels awful about it.” You paused for a moment.

“But isn’t that technically your job now?” You watched the way his lips curled into a smile.

“I do it so I can see her more often. It gets tiring doing everything, you know.” You definitely knew. “But talk to her about it. See what the deal is.”

You snickered at the thought.

“It can’t be that easy.”

“It is.”

Now, in the heat of her presence, the pendent was even colder.

“Hey, [y/n]. I was wondering when you were going to come around.” You swallowed, a little overwhelmed.

“You were expecting me?”

“Well, not exactly. But you were probably going to want to talk to me eventually.” She arched a manicured eyebrow at you. Was every god this beautiful? “Now, why did-”

“Why don’t I have any past lives?” You watched how her eyes widened for a moment, stunned, before her pink lips parted as she laughed. It was warm, motherly enough to match Philza’s naturally fatherly one, and so lovely to listen to. She rested a hand on your cheek when it slowly quieted and you were faced with looking into her eyes that looked like they held every answer in the universe. You felt a little dumb for asking it straight out and floundered to recover. To explain yourself. “I don’t have any to remember. I want to have them, to share memories with everyone else.”

There was a slow build at the front of your brain.

“Well, who’s to say you don’t?”

The pressure continued growing. Your head ached in the worst way possible.

“Minds are weird. Sometimes you just shove things down and make yourself forget.”

You suddenly thought of a servant who tended to a woman you didn’t know. Images of things that had happened or might have flickered through your mind. Possibilities playing in loops. You remembered watching heroes save the city and the zombie apocalypse starting countless times. Your skull felt like it was splitting.

“All you need is a nudge in the right direction, and memories will just come back.”

There was laughter with Drista and Kristin herself. Stories on a computer screen. Childish fights echoing over a Discord call while you watched on in silence. First love, second love, third. Faces that weren’t yours smiling wide back at you. Mellohi playing softly in the background as hands you had seen countless times before cooked dinner.

“It hurts so much. Why does it hurt so much? I just want it to stop.” Kristin pet your hair with her other hand. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes and she shushed you.

You saw different versions of Techno’s sweet smiles. You felt the varied intensities of Wilbur’s stares, warm and cold. You savoured the several kinds of laughs Tommy shared with everyone around him. Would you ever experience any of them again? You would. You had to. Techno was your best friend, Tommy your little brother, Ghostbur your companion. You could not abandon them when you promised to always come back.

Your vision blurred black around the edges as stars danced across your eyes. You suddenly felt so very weak.

The goddess of life and death’s voice was muffled in your ears as your hearing slowly faded. The heron necklace slipped from your grip, but the sound of it hitting the ground didn’t reach you. Neither did the crash of your fall. Her words echoed around you as you lost consciousness.

“You’ll be okay.”

It was only a matter of time before you found out why.

[littlestarrykenobi]

Spin the Bottle (Akaashi x Reader NSFW one shot)

Summary: You are tired of Akaashi’s dual personality toward you and decide to get to the bottom of it with a bottle of wine and a late night alone. 

Warnings: NSFW, name calling, quickie, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2793

The day you moved in you knew that Akaashi was going to be a troublesome roommate. The landlord assured you that the boys she already had living in the room were nice young men, one of them hardly ever home in the first place, and since you were desperate for somewhere to live before the start of term you didn’t figure that you had much of a choice otherwise.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto cheered as he set down the last box. “Barbeque dinner time yeah?! You promised!”

The door to Akaashi’s room was already shut before you had the chance to answer, leaving you alone with the silver haired extrovert. What you didn’t realize was that Akaashi had his back to the door, cheeks bright pink as he slid to the floor, staring at the ground as he tried to collect himself. He had hardly the occasion to speak two words to you before but he’d seen you on campus freshman year and now…? Well, he’d have to talk to you… unless…

You and Akaashi have been basically battling back and forth leaving each other subtle hints for nearly two months. The crush came fast, made of little reminder notes left on bathroom mirrors for both you and Bokuto and cups of coffee left hot for you on the kitchen counter in the mornings. You caught him sneaking little glances out of the corner of your eye before and it was sincerely sweet how he’d work late with you at the small kitchen table, his books spread over half of it while your side was just as messy. He’d make you little snacks at midnight, bring you coffee during especially strenuous study sessions, but when you would try and joke with him like you would with Bokuto he’d shut you out completely. It seemed almost impossible to you that these two men, so opposite in personality, could be such close companions but… You supposed that crazier things have happened.

“Oh come on Akaashi you and Bokuto have to have a little more in common than that,” You teased one evening.

“What do you mean?” He asked quietly.

“Well how is it that a guy like Bokuto who’s all machismo and confidence make friends with a-” You watched as his face fell, a blush on his cheeks as he shut his laptop hard.

“I should be getting to the library.”

“Wait, that came out wrong I-”

“No, no I’m not offended I really have to be going.”

Then you’d sigh and slump in your chair, working alone again. You were getting tired of how evasive Akaashi was, especially since you and Bokuto were really starting to get closer as friends.

“You just intimidate him!” Bokuto promised you one night as you sat at your favorite small dive bar. “He’s not used to having two pretty faces to deal with!”

“First off I’m not that pretty and second off how could I be intimidating?” You laughed, shaking your head as you took another sip of your drink.

“Well, okay, Akaashi only had like… Two girls he ever went on a date with that I know about. Being his best friend, I think I’d know! So… What are you going to do huh? Maybe you could get him to do a movie night when I’m gone next weekend.”

“You’re going to be gone?” You muse, thinking it over. It’d be nice to spend more time with Akaashi and besides… The mystery had a little bit of an allure to it.

As you and Bokuto walked home you thought about it more and more. Why were you so determined to be Akaashi’s friend anyway? What did it matter if he hated you or something, Bokuto was clearly happy with you being at the apartment and besides it wasn’t causing you any trouble so why did you care so damn much about this handsome fit setter? But that’s when it began to hit you. The kindness of those notes about things you had due, the thoughtfulness of how he started getting snacks he’d know you’d like for your midnight essay writing, staying up with you when he didn’t need to to cram for tests… You were starting to fall for the way he showed you how he loved you, even if he couldn’t say any of this out loud… yet. That next weekend, when Bokuto was away for a game, you were going to figure out if the seemingly insane thing your brain came up with had any merit to it whatsoever.

You hear Akaashi come home, the door slamming behind him as he dragged himself over to the couch. You could see how the semester was stressing him out, wincing as his tired eyes turned to you. He had hardly been home for the past two days, holed up in the library as finals approached.

“I turned in that paper, Y/N,” He said softly, a proud smile on his face. “I can finally relax…”

“Oh?” You smiled as you joined him on the couch, noting how he made just enough room for you but didn’t quite move far enough for there to be any more than a few inches between the two of you. “Well then it’s a perfect time for a wine night isn’t it?”

“Honestly that sounds.. really nice…” He mumbled, blushing and clearing his throat as he thought about the advice Bokuto gave him.

It’s obvious she likes you too! Just… Say yes to it! Go with what she wants to do and then you’ll figure out the perfect time when it hits, just like we always have!

That wasn’t how they always had, true, but he understood the sentiment Bokuto was getting at. Shutting down opportunities to spend time with you wasn’t helping him one bit so… Why was this so difficult? He let you run off, getting the bottle of wine and the opener before you sat back down, filling two glasses.

“To work well done and reward well earned,” You smiled, clinking glasses with him as you eased into the couch.

Akaashi blushed, nodding with the toast as he leaned back as well, absent mindedly wrapping an arm around your shoulders, his cheeks hot with embarrassment the moment he realized it. But it was too late now, wasn’t it? If he pulled away you’d for sure notice and then think he didn’t want to have his arm around you which he totally did but if he leaves his arm and you don’t want him to have his arm around you then he just comes off as creepy, doesn’t he? He’d been maintaining a distance between you two for his own protection but now that you leaned into the way his arm had been wrapped around your shoulders that had vanished into thin air… and what surprised him most was how grateful he was for its absence.

That small touch was enough to put him at ease, not thinking about how the wine flowed until you were both three glasses deep, sharing stories from high school as he told you more about how Bokuto would practically form mushrooms pouting when he messed up in Volleyball. He felt your weight shift a little to look more at him as he decided to finally get bold. A tad bit woozy, he set the glass down before taking your face in both his hands, squishing your cheeks and his legs onto the couch.

“I want… to kiss you.” He mumbled, his blue eyes flickering all over your face, trying to memorize the way you heated up as he made his infamous split second decisions. “But I cannot…” He whispered, bursting out into laughter as he fell back onto the couch, clutching his chest like his heart had been pierced with an arrow.

You crawled between his legs, leaning over him with a grin.

“I could kiss you then,” You offer, leaning in to do just that before he puts his hand over your mouth, his palm pressed to your sweet lips.

“No,” He whined, shaking his head firmly. “You can’t.”

“And why not?” You pouted, voice muffled by his hand and reminding him of Bokuto’s pout just enough to inspire a large goofy grin.

“Because if I kiss you… I wont stop… and I want to remember… everything about that, Y/N-chan.” He purred, his hand moving quickly to behind your head, pulling you down to rest your head on his chest, taking a deep breath as he held you. “I like you… a lot… And… I just want to fall asleep with you like this… Can you stay with me tonight?”

His voice had just the slightest whine to it, clearly reluctant to let you go even if it was just to walk down the hall to his room. He could hardly remember the rest of the night, his leg hooked in between yours so you couldn’t wander off, his arms wrapped around your body so you were enveloped by his warmth… He fell asleep in his clothes, not caring that he was in jeans and a button down which are arguably some of the least comfortable sleeping clothes one could wear. The next morning when his head stopped spinning he spent almost twenty minutes just staring down at you, admiring how peacefully you slept with him, sighing contentedly. This was exactly how he wanted things to be with you…

He almost began to pretend to be asleep when you woke up but the way you said his name, mumbling it before you cuddled into him… He smiled down at you, kissing your forehead softly.

“I know Bokuto-san will be home soon but… I… I wanted to…” He stammered, his cheeks getting tomato red as you looked up at him with such big loving eyes.

You didn’t give him an opportunity to finish his sentence, pressing your lips to his so sweetly he could swear that he felt a cavity pop up right as it happened. He smiled into the tender kiss, one hand gently tangling into your hair, pulling you closer as your bodies pressed to the other, desperately seeking their touch. He couldn’t fully hold back his moan as you rolled on top, happy to let you straddle him as you kissed lovingly over and over, his face radiating heat as he realized what you could probably feel despite his jeans.

“You know I’m sure it wasn’t comfortable sleeping in your dress shirt like this…” You mumble as your fingers delicately begin to work on his buttons. He lets a shiver run down his spine, the morning sunlight making you glitter like a deity above him as he lets you completely take control.

“If this is what you want I-” he whispered before you started to giggle, making him furrow his brow. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing,” You tease. “Last night you were all ‘oh if I kiss you I’m not stopping’ and here you are, letting me be the dominant one.”

Akaashi smirked, huffing a little as you challenged his dominance. He quickly started to help you with his buttons, slipping out of the shirt as he sat up, throwing the garment aside as he wrapped an arm around your lower back, easily flipping you onto your back. “If you’re going to hold me to my promises like that, my little flower, then I suppose I have to do my best to fulfill every last one of them.”

His hands slipped up your shirt, fingers playing with your nipples as he pressed his lips to yours again, tugging and rolling them between his fingers, trying to illicit any reaction he could as he nibbled and sucked your bottom lip, reveling in your every small moan or noise.

“Keiji,” You whine as he moves his kisses to your jaw, finding a sweet spot by your ear before going for the pleasure centers in your neck.

“What is it, my flower?” he purrs, backing off of you just enough to slide your t-shirt over your head and throw it to the side, abandoned with his own in the corner.

“Y-You said… Bokuto could-“

“I don’t want to talk about him. I want to focus on you.” He growled, clearly a little jealous that he hadn’t rid your thoughts of everything and anything but him right now.

“N-No, Keiji he could walk in on us if we a-aren’t… you know…” you mumble, blushing darkly as you melt under his intense stare.

“Well… Then I suppose I’ll have to savor you another time, hmm? I should just punish you now then, is that it? Punish you for teasing me?”

You blush, shaking your head as he pulls off your sleep shorts, smirking to see the arousal already evident. “No underwear huh?” He chuckled. “Figures. You know who finds your… dirty panties in the bathroom, don’t you?”

Your brain is practically melting now, thinking back and remembering times when you must have forgotten to pick them up after showers. You always had all of them, you thought at least, and he’d never brought them up before so you hadn’t noticed.

“What if Bokuto-san had found them, hmm? What would he have said?” Akaashi growled, his digits quickly making work to stretch you out for his waiting, throbbing member as one hand worked on undoing his jeans. “Unless that’s what all this was, hmm? Playing us against each other? So fucking dirty, aren’t you?”

He pulled away just long enough to take off his pants, leaving them exactly where he was standing as he crawled back on top of you now completely nude, still towering over you as he pressed a finger into your mouth, making you suck your own need off of them. “Now be a good little flower, won’t you? Let me fuck your brains out.”

His pace wasn’t meant to let you adjust. If you were going to bring Bokuto up, remind him how Bokuto could be back at any minute, ruin the morning he’d been dreaming of then, well, he was going to ensure your pussy would be made into a perfect sleeve for his cock regardless of what you thought on the matter. He sucked on your neck as he drilled into you, carefully hitting your sweet spots as he held your chest to his, leaving marks hungrily all along your exposed skin. Keiji didn’t care to let anyone have even the slightest opportunity to imagine you without being reminded that he’d be there. One hand slipped back down to your sex, fingers working at a furious pace to get you off as your orgasm approached. You two were practically animals in heat, howling for each other as you took advantage of Bokuto’s absence.

“Fuck I’m so close,” he muttered, not realizing that was the first thing he’d even been able to say since he’d sheathed himself into you for the first time.

“Come on,” he whispered into your neck, not letting up on his speed. “Fuck baby I need you to cum…”

He begged for your orgasm, fingers working like mad as he finally felt you climax, gasping as his eyes widened, the hand working your sex quickly going to his own as he squeezed hard around the base, pulling out as quickly as he could to spill his cum on your stomach, panting as he painted it white with his sticky juices.

“F-Fuck,” he chuckled, still shaky as he tried to catch his breath. “You certainly know how to… take it out of me…”

He sat back on his heels, admiring how beautiful you looked covered in his cum after your own orgasm. “If I had any idea where my phone was I’d take a picture but… I suppose I can wait for next time…”

“Next time?” You said, ears perking up.

He furrowed his brow, confused and a little frustrated. “Wait you didn’t think…? Boke.”

Akaashi shook his head, sighing softly with a light smile. “Let’s clean you up before Bokuto gets home alright? I think I… Can finally tell him I have a girlfriend…”

He gently stroked your cheek before getting a tissue, happily cleaning your stomach as he let you sneak back into your room, out of the view of the living room. He stood in the door to your room, wearing some casual sweatpants and an old volleyball t-shirt, wrapping his arms around your body for a moment and giving you a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Let’s go make breakfast yeah?” he mumbled.

“I was thinking pancakes!” Bokuto laughed as he passed by the two of you, heading to his room at the end of the hall, making Akaashi freeze. “By the way, a little quieter next time yeah? Might wake the neighbors!”

[tartagilicious]

counterparts.

→ synopsis | hurt after hearing the person you’ve grown closest to has been withholding the truth you’ve been searching for, you seek him out to know just what else about your relationship had been a convenient lie.

→ genre | angst.

→ word count | 1300.

→ ib | je te pardonne by maître gims

→ note | angst my beloved <3 I hope yall like being hurt because I sure like doing the hurting >:D i spun this to be kind of a romance-esque story, but at the end of the day, you can view it platonically as well! just a reminder in that case, i write from the traveller’s pov, but the traveller is meant to be you and not the canonical person! / art credit to nanogons on twitter & a very thank you to @seerie for one again being my beta reader !!

✧･ﾟ: the day you meet again, rain runs from drooping leaves.

petrichor. a deep voice calls from within your memory as you walk. the scent left by rain is a rather unique combination of natural chemicals, slightly different to each region depending on the plant life that most thrives there.

as if to prove his point, you remember the man stopping to pluck a glaze lily from the earth, dotted with the same gentle smell. an innocent enough gesture. yet as you took the flower from his gloved hand, an abrupt sense of belonging crashed through your chest.

but the scent grew cloying over time. easily, even, with dainsleif’s tales of the old nation of khaenri’ah, and the archon’s ties with your missing sibling. that same fragrance of rain is rotten in your nose as you walk, the ball of tension in your throat doing little to keep you grounded.

because suddenly, your thoughts drift back to him in every stray moment. every past conversation is taken apart with a careful hand, yet is still unskilled in pulling out the lies you want to find. no matter what you do, you know that in the familiar stalls and cloudy reflections of shop windows will remain memories of zhongli, as hard as you may try to keep your eyes averted from them.

you find him with ease, the notion of knowing him so well curling in your stomach. but you choose to give yourself the benefit of the doubt; while a man of substance, it’s not hard to discern what zhongli’s hobbies may be.

it’s a lie and you know it.

there was only ever one place he chose to go to on days like today, anyway, where the clouds hang low and dark in the sky. they cast a temporary shadow over the world, the greenery and water mingled in a soothing dance with the air.

the ambience is lost on you as you climb the stairs of the pavilion, turning towards the veranda with rocks in your boots. he sits behind a thin screen that hangs down to block the rain, back turned to you. there’s a golden pot of tea next to him that still steams.

“___, it’s nice to see you.”

you haven’t said anything yet, but it’d be foolish to assume he didn’t hear you coming. your chest feels heavy as you try to take casual steps forward.

“you as well.” the words come out in a mumble as he finally turns towards you, eyes clear of suspicion. but, you’re sure not to mistake this as trust — zhongli must be aware of the bittersweet reunion between you and your sibling, regardless of his status of retirement.

“i hadn’t been expecting you.”

a small smile quirks his lip as he raises a hand, silently calling to a member of the waitstaff. a brief recount of your sudden arrival is all that’s needed before he places an order of your favourite beverage — a pot of sweet herbal tea you’d shared many times before.

you bite back your words and nod your thanks.

there is no barrier between you, not that there ever has been — you are alike in your positions of rebirth, and share the sentiments that come with leaving something cherished behind. but as you settle into the chair across from him, he can’t shake the notion of a strong connection beginning to sever.

“recently,” he clears his throat softly, naturally in a way only he can manage. “how have you been fairing?"

“i.. could have been better. but, that’s just how it’s been lately."

zhongli nods. his eyes do all they can to ease your tense figure from a distance, gentle as he says, “…after this all, i hope you’re alright.”

somewhat unbeknownst to you, his words are truthful. while aware of the situation on your mind, he is prepared to withstand any reaction you might have; whether you choose to forgive him or would rather never see him again, it is nothing he doesn’t see coming.

but the moment you pale hearing those words, he almost reconsiders.

“so i guess it's true?” you pause to let the waitstaff place a teapot in front of you, decorated with the delicate purple leaves of a wisteria tree. zhongli takes note of the way you put aside your gloomy expression to send the member a comforting smile while they pour your beverage, reassuringly easing the tension they must inevitably feel interrupting such a situation.

he’s looking into the depths of his tea cup when you try to meet his eyes again. you may be alone once again, but the awkwardness has not disappeared.

“…don’t you have an excuse?” your hands wrap around the warm cup in front of you, your eyes jumping from one place to another, not in panic, but disbelief. zhongli sees the way your words affect you, the bitter poison they must taste like after holding them in, the anxiety in knowing that he may be just the type of person you hope he isn’t.

he pauses for a few moments, the pattering rain insistent on the overhang not far from you. but he will not ever be the one to deny you the luxury of the truth.

“no.”

he states his answer simply, deliberately taking a sip of the tea that has long gone cold in his cup. in that moment, zhongli would use any means necessary to avoid seeing the heartbreak in your eyes.

“it was a contract.” he says, finally placing the cup down and breaking the defining silence. your eyes find his quickly.

he wants to tell you. tell you what? that you have every right to be angry with him for hiding the information you seek? that despite the horrible and deceiving man he’s become, he’s begun to realise that he wants you to be there to forgive him? there is little within the scope of reality that he is truly capable of hiding from you, and he curses the world every day that it has to include this.

“i sincerely apologise.” zhongli’s voice is low, the retired god seen nowhere in the regret that lines it. “but i cannot break a contract, not even for you.”

zhongli has always been a meticulous man; his suits are ironed in a specific way that he prefers to handle himself. he will talk about operas for hours if not prompted to stop, yet will only ever attend showings at one theatre. he is the same with the agreements he makes, steadfast and reliable in everything he does.

you only wish he could make an exception just this once.

words are jumbled in your throat, different scenarios and endings fighting to come out on top — you want to say something. there is no reason to give into the satisfaction that would come with walking away. yet when you open your mouth, your words escape you.

what do i want to say?

you walk away only when you’ve convinced yourself that it must be better for both of you this way, to separate yourself from the idea of him so you can finally see the entirety of him.

as your figure disappears below the veranda’s stairs, zhongli feels little. he knows there should be a cold bite, a flicker from deep within him that only comes when someone may never return, yet there is not even a moment of hesitation. he reminds himself that he should be prepared to see to whatever conclusion you reach.

silently, he pushes the cup in front of him to the centre of the table with the intention of leaving it to be collected. instead, he can’t help but notice how it rests next to its companion in the set, designed to be the counterpart to yours.

the artist had clearly intended the two to symbolise night and day, yours painted a deep purple complimented by an old wisteria tree — his, however, remains a golden colour, and contains the image of a blooming glaze lily.

he tears his eyes away, fighting against the fear of you, too, leaving for good.

[blue-mood-blue]

No one asked about the eye.

It wasn't something Peter Nureyev even noticed that he'd noticed, just another unnecessary piece of information filed away in the back of his mind for use later if he needed it. He was doing his best to stay out of Juno Steel's way, after all, ensuring that they weren't stuck in a room together alone and forced to make stilted, polite conversation; he rarely had reason to spare extra energy in observing the way the rest of their strange band interacted with Juno.

When he caught a glance at Juno rubbing his eye one morning under the patch, shuffling past where Peter was seated at the table and nodding along to whatever tangent Rita was prattling away about behind him while obviously retaining nothing, the thought occurred to Peter again: no one ever asked Juno about his eye. It went mostly unremarked upon entirely, even when "family dinner" devolved into "taking cheap shots at each other."

Like as not it was just good manners, Peter decided as he shifted his attention back to the tablet in his hand. It would be in poor taste to pepper someone with questions about a serious, visible injury, and if Juno didn't bring it up it hardly fell to any of the rest of them to bring it up for him. And Juno had been without an eye for some time - if he wanted a cybernetic alternative, he could have gotten one long before now. He could have listed it with his other requirements for working with Buddy's crew, even. That was his own business.

No one said anything about the eye - asked any questions, voiced any concerns, made any offers - and Peter put it out of his head. Peter put it out of his head when Juno forgot his patch and still seemed surprised to find an empty socket, when Juno’s depth perception still suffered despite the time he'd had to get used to it, when Juno took emptied cans from a meal and lined them up outside whenever they were somewhere with enough gravity to make it worth his while and practiced his shooting.

Juno went wide every time. And every time, Peter remembered his precise shooting from before, and felt a pang in his chest.

"He isn't getting any better." Peter wasn't sure why he spoke up, and to Jet, who seemed absorbed with whatever he was doing to the Carte Blanche while Peter idly watched Juno practice. He hadn’t meant to say anything, it was the kind of pointless sentiment that was best left in Peter’s head if it had to be anywhere at all, and it was a small mercy that he’d said so softly enough that Jet had plenty of room to pretend he hadn’t heard.

"He is not," Jet replied.

Should have kept his mouth shut, Peter thought, while continuing to not keep his mouth shut. "It's concerning that he hasn't improved by now, considering when he lost the eye. He might never get that sharpshooting back."

"He might not," Jet agreed.

"He could consider getting it replaced - the technology exists." Just because it would make their work easier, Peter justified to himself. The only reason he cared about Juno Steel's sharpshooting was because it might be necessary to save their lives at some point. Otherwise, he would leave well enough alone.

There was no reply from Jet, and Peter assumed the man had finally decided that the conversation wasn't worth continuing. He was surprised, then, when he looked up and found Jet regarding him seriously, that steady gaze unwavering.

"I do not think Juno would want such a thing. I would advise you not to mention it to him." Before Peter had the chance to ask what he meant, to figure out how Jet could have come to that leap of a conclusion when he barely knew Juno and certainly hadn't been there when he'd lost the eye, Jet stood up, collected his tools, and went back inside.

Peter watched another wide shot, lost in thoughts that didn't get him anywhere.

~~~

It was late, and the Carte Blanche was quiet, and Peter didn't know why he was awake.

It might have been that the bed felt too empty; a startlingly vulnerable conclusion, since Juno didn't spend every night there even after their conversation, but there was no point denying the possibility. More likely that he'd heard something, and the ability to wake quickly had saved him too many times for him to easily put aside the habit now. When he didn't hear it again, he rolled to the far side of the bed and resolutely tried to fall back asleep.

Five minutes later, with a put-upon sigh, Peter dragged himself to his feet. The idea of the empty bed had wormed its way into his head and he couldn’t stop thinking about the cold, extra space. It was ridiculous and mortifying that he was actually considering knocking on Juno's door in the early hours of the morning to ask for a space in his bed; worse that he knew he wouldn’t, and that he would never get back to sleep now that he’d allowed himself to consider it. Might as well find a distraction, since he was up anyway.

He'd already passed the living area on his way to the kitchen when he stopped, a delayed reaction to something sending a chill down his spine, and slowly walked back in. It was dark - the faint lights of the hallway filtered in and mixed with the ambient light from the windows, giving only just enough illumination for Peter to find what unsettled him. There was someone in there, on the couch, sitting straight as a mannequin who’d been positioned that way and whispering something in a low, unnaturally steady thrum.

Peter froze in the doorway. It was Juno.

He didn't seem right; it was a vague conclusion that didn't do the pit in Peter's stomach justice, but it was a hard thing to define besides a sense of wrong. The muttering and the blank stare told him that Juno was probably sleepwalking, or something like it; the rigid way he was sitting and his sharp focus on nothing implied something else. He hadn't reacted at all to Peter passing through the room, to Peter walking right in front of him and right past that focused, unfocused stare, and he didn't react as Peter quietly walked closer.

"Juno?" Nothing. Not a twitch to indicate he'd heard, not so much as a pause between the stream of muttered, whispered words. Peter crept closer, sat slowly down next to him on the couch, and as he was reaching up to touch his shoulder he heard what Juno was saying.

“Goodness-is-the-only-purpose-I-have-little-potential-for-Good-therefore-I-am-worth-little-the-Tower-has-great-potential-therefore-it-is-great-"

It all felt deeply, deeply unsettling. It was Juno's voice but not his words; the cadence was even and emotionless and mechanic, as if something else were speaking through him with no concept of how to be Juno. Peter's hand stopped because suddenly, foolishly, he was afraid to attract the attention of whoever it was sitting next to him. And just as foolishly, he was afraid to leave Juno alone and lost.

"It's a dream, Nureyev," he muttered to himself, disgusted that a simple act of comfort was beyond him, even momentarily. Juno was trying, and what was Peter doing? Sitting next to him, unable to touch him, useless to him. Ridiculous. "Just wake him up and maybe you can both get some sleep."

"Boss?" Peter nearly jumped out of his skin, and he jostled Juno next to him; in his focus on listening to what Juno was saying, he hadn't heard Rita walk in. She was rubbing sleep from her eyes, looking between Peter and Juno. "Boss, you feelin’ okay?"

"-systems-are-beginning-to-fail-Emotional-Danger-Avoidance-Protocol-has-been-deactivated-request-received-diverting-remaining-processing-power-from-pain-numbing-functions-"

"Oh." Rita didn't seem confused. Concerned, though, in a quiet way that was so unlike her it made Peter wonder what happened to people on this ship at night to change them so thoroughly. Or perhaps, not on this ship at all. “You better leave this to me, Mista Ransom. I mean, you could try, but he probably wouldn’t remember you and it’d get pretty confusing.”

The pit of unease at the bottom of Peter’s stomach was widening, quickly. He stared at Juno. “He wouldn’t… remember?”

“He gets a little scrambled when he gets like this - it’s not really surprising after spending all that time with someone talking at him in his head all the time, you know, he told me about what it was like and I don’t think I’d like it myself, someone tryin’ to tell me what to do -“

“What… what are you...” Peter shook his head. Not important. It wasn’t important for him to understand right now, while his questions would only leave Juno stuck in his own mind longer. “Can you help him?”

Rita smiled at him reassuringly, as if the situation had not left her terrifyingly out of her depth. All the better, Peter thought faintly, as he continued to sit by and be useless. “Oh yeah, I got him. You can go to bed if you want.”

Peter shook his head. He would not be sleeping tonight, not until Juno was well. He could think about what his inability to leave meant later.

"Must've been a bad day if you're dealing with this again, huh?" She was talking to Juno and he wasn't hearing her, so she sat on his other side and tapped him on the shoulder. He didn't react. "Mista Steel, it's Rita. You remember me, right? Rita's gonna get you outta there, don't you worry, boss."

"Ri-ta." He pronounced it like the sound was something strange and foreign, like he was making a first attempt to say something he'd never tried before. “Rita. Rita. Rita Rita Rita Rita...”

Suddenly, Juno's head snapped to look at her. It was unsettling; someone who was asleep should have been slower to react, but the movement was unnaturally swift. He looked right at Rita, and this time when he spoke, he almost, horribly, sounded like himself. He was smiling. "The net Good of: save the Tower and bring peace to every human in the Galaxy. Outweighs the net evil of: killing every person in this room, one by one, until you reveal yourself."

Rita just took one of his hands and patted the back of it. "Okay boss, that's real nice and all, but I'm sitting right here. You don't gotta lure me out, and besides we're not even there right now and we haven't been for a long time now. If you really wanna get back at me the only thing you can do is fire me, and we both know you’d never actually do that because then where would you be?"

The silence was so much bigger after her chatter; there was a tension in her shoulders that she wasn’t letting show on her face. And then the tension in Juno collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, and Peter heard a beautiful sound. "Rita?" He sounded exhausted, but that was unmistakably and mercifully Juno’s voice. "What am I... doing on the couch?"

Rita's smile was big enough to light up the room - big and genuine and relieved. Peter wondered if she would ever explain what he'd just seen, and somehow he doubted it. "You promised to watch a movie with me and Mista Ransom, boss! And since you're awake now anyway and you always say you're too busy to watch a movie in the middle of the day I just thought we might as well watch something in the middle of the night instead, since all you're ever doing then is sleeping anyway -"

It didn't seem like he was keeping up very well with what Rita was telling him, but the mention of "Ransom" must have caught his attention because he turned around to confirm that Peter was there. Snapped out of whatever trap of his own mind he'd been caught in a moment earlier, Juno just looked tired; Peter reached for his other hand and gave it a squeeze, smiling in a way that he hoped masked his uncertainty. "Might as well watch something until we all fall asleep, hm?"

Peter wasn't sure if Juno was too tired to comprehend what either of them were talking about, or if he was just comfortable enough in their combined presence that it didn't matter that he didn't understand; whatever the reason, instead of answering either of them or asking any more questions he lay his head on Peter's shoulder and was almost asleep already by the time Rita got back with her tablet.

~~~

It was only a voice, robotic and designed to be soothing. The message calmly explained the steps of the security procedure before the event during the elevator ride, and Juno reached for Peter's hand.

His grip was tight and desperate, like a vice, but he wouldn't look over to Peter. He wouldn't explain if he could, wasn't allowed to explain here even if Peter was allowed to ask and they weren't already in their characters for the latest job. Juno wasn't ready to talk about it.

Peter squeezed his hand and took a step closer, disguised behind a subtle shift in his stance. "Just hold onto me, love," he muttered under his breath, hoping Juno could hear. "We'll make it through."

~~~

It was garbage television, what Peter finally settled on while he worked his way through an enormous bowl of ice cream in the preciously rare, quiet evening on the Carte Blanche. He'd probably have joined the festivities planetside if not for the badly-sprained ankle and cracked ribs, and he'd probably have been more upset about the whole thing had Juno not volunteered to stay with him. As it was, he allowed himself to enjoy the evening for exactly what it was - quiet and calm that he usually didn't get, and alone time with Juno with blissfully few expectations for either of them.

Juno had settled him in, placed the bowl and the remote in his hands, and kissed the top of Peter's head before promising that he'd be back in a minute. Peter took advantage of his absence to find something really awful to watch, fully planning to use his injuries as emotional manipulation if Juno started to complain. Remote privileges were rare in their strange little group.

He'd settled on a conspiracy program before Juno got back, a recent special set in Hyperion City - ought to be good for a laugh for Juno, too, who'd probably spend the entire time arguing with the host about everything she didn't know about the city he'd grown up in. Peter had seen the odd article about it circulating the tabloids - New Town, home of experimental brainwashing that no one could prove. As unlikely as it was interesting, far-fetched as it was entertaining.

Juno walked in as the theme started to play, already groaning. "I have no idea why you like this show. It's such a crock of shit and you know it." The criticism was tempered by good-natured laughter.

"Some of us like a good story well-told, Detective, even if it's not quite true." He smiled as he looked above him, where Juno was leaning over the couch... and stopped when he saw his expression. "Juno?"

Juno was staring at the tv, looking for all the world like he'd just seen a ghost. The program opened on a scene of former Mayor O'Flaherty, giving a speech about good to an awed and eagar public, specifically about creating a better home; Juno stared, so still and yet hanging on every word.

"Juno, dear? Are you... alright?"

He shook his head and cleared his throat. "Uh, what exactly are you watching?"

"That 'New Town' conspiracy, the one with the brainwashing." Juno didn't say anything, didn't seem to react in any way Peter could see. "Juno. Tell me what's wrong, please."

Juno rubbed at his eye, first over the patch and then under it, still watching the tv. The footage had changed from the speech to a dramatic shot of New Town's grand opening, played in slow motion with tense, swelling music to make the moment appropriately dramatic. "It's... nothing's wrong." He glanced down at Peter, and cracked an uneasy smile when he saw exactly how much Peter believed that. "Okay, nothing's wrong right now. It's just..."

"Just...?"

"A bad memory. A few bad memories."

Peter wasn't sure if he should ask, wasn't sure if he was allowed. Juno had put so much work into being open; wasn't it his part to respect the boundaries where they were, and to trust that Juno would talk to him when he was ready? They'd invested so much time and effort in building something that wouldn't collapse and hurt them both. So instead of pushing, he asks: "Sit with me?"

And when he does, Juno asks him: "Did I ever tell you how I met Buddy?"

When Juno starts his story, honest and well-told, Peter turns off the television to listen to him.